The Burning Kingdom
by wolvesinthenight
Summary: Civil unrest in southern Ferelden seeps to the northern lands of Highever. After and attack on House Cousland its heir is given over to the waning order of Grey Wardens in return for her safety. Now she caught between rebuilding her house and fulfilling her duties as a warden and all the while Ferelden is tearing itself apart. AU, NO BLIGHT. fcouslandxalistair
1. Chapter 1

_Her parries were automatic her thrusts almost involuntary. Her body seemed to move without the involvement of her mind- the result of hours of drills and sparring. Yet it wasn't the same, she realized as she sunk her sword into the belly of the man she was fighting. First through the armor. Then a slight elastic resistance- she could feel the skin give way and then flesh and then the squelch of soft organs as her weapon invaded the man's abdomen and shredded his insides. Disgusted she withdrew the blade quickly, a spew of blood and pinkish slop followed. The man gurgled sickeningly and fell to the ground, his guts slid out of the wound and onto the stone at her feet. The stench was unbelievable. She swallowed the bile rising in her throat._

_This is what it feels like to kill someone._

_She wanted to vomit, wanted to drop her weapon, curl up on the floor and just cease being. But she didn't. The next soldier was advancing on gripped her dagger tight and screamed. She would survive this._

…**The stars are not wanted now; put out every one  
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun  
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood;  
For nothing now can come to any good**_._

- by WH Auden, _Funeral Blues_

The sun was high in the sky as the travellers arrived at Ostagar. The camp was bustling with activity, Colorful tents and richly dressed people dotted the area, in stark contrast to the somber ruins. Everywhere there was noise- women's laughter bubbled up from corners and music alighted the air, punctuated by the bellows of travelling merchants hawking their wares.

When reports of a contingent of darkspawn, a few dozen in number reached the Palace, King Cailan reacted with excitement rather than trepidation. It felt refreshing to be facing an issue of such polarity in a kingdom rife with such a diversity of factions and political complexities. According to the rangers stationed in the area the chasm had appeared recently when a large section of terrain had collapsed. A network of darkspawn caverns was thus revealed.

Cailan, to his delight, was able to enlist the aid of the now almost extinct Ferelden Grey Wardens. Together they would purge the caverns of darkspawn and collapse any passages that led deeper.

Darkspawn. For Ferelden these creatures had always straddled the line between menace and myth. Nannies and wet-nurses the kingdom over clucked that it was the darkspawn who snatched unruly children from their beds at night and disappeared into the bowels of the earth- never to be seen again. Now and again, however, in a dingy, ale-soaked tavern you might hear of a caravan that had been raided by such creatures, or a farmer who had been woken by the sound of his cattle being devoured by something monstrous.

But these small bands of darkspawn were mindless beasts, bearing crude arms and usually starving- even the most mead-addled, pot-bellied garrison of soldiers in the kingdom could dispatch of them.

Or so the Wardens said. They had assured Cailan that the newly discovered Korcari caverns was a problem that did not warrant his personal involvement. Cailan, however, had been weaned on tales of blighted lands and heroic Grey Wardens- The temptation to fulfill his boyhood fantasies had been too great.

And so he had set off to Ostagar, glowing with the promise of battles to be had and glory to be won at the side of the Wardens.

It seemed, however, that he was followed. Ferelden Nobles were prone to distraction and Cailan's court was no exception. His quest proved to be a fashionable and welcome interruption from the gossip and social one-upmanship of their everyday lives and so many trailed Cailan to Ostagar, with their household and trappings in tow. It was the tail-end of summer and the weather was mild and clear. Evening brought a slight chill that only encouraged cozy fireside conversation and merrymaking. Those who camped at Ostagar with the King did so in luxury and comfort, safe in the knowledge that their courageous, handsome monarch and 'his' Grey Wardens were close by.

The travellers navigated the camp in silence; barely a glance was passed their way despite their tattered and road-weary appearance.

One of the travellers, Emery Cousland seethed. The festive atmosphere in the camp and laughter of its inhabitants mocked her dark mood. She stopped to regard a noble jeer and cajole at a jester who was trying to juggle flaming daggers, his face was ruddy with drink but she recognized him nonetheless. She recognized most of the well-dressed folk in the camp. Some were her friends and some were even distant relatives. High-borns of age were typically allowed to reside at the Royal Court to mingle, create political ties or present themselves as marriageable. She was supposed to have gone that very year but had refused. Truthfully she had always felt oafish amongst the silk-clad swans of Denerim's nobility.

How things had change- how she had changed. In one night her view of the world had re-focused. She no longer felt oafish or unfashionable. These people now seemed the fools. They lived their whole lives in their warm cocoons of ignorance and wealth. She hated them but more than that she felt disgusted and ashamed that once she'd been their peer.

Almost a month ago that had changed; she'd woken up in the night to her family home under attack. Outside swords clashed and she could smell smoke on the air. They had come in the night, carrying wicked blades and stout shields . But they wore no crests and flew no banners- mercenaries, murderers for hire.

Her mother hadn't awoken until the last second. Emery had found her , still in bed, run through by swords. Eleanor Cousland's face was frozen in a look of surprise and horror. Emery had screamed and collapsed beside her parent's bed, gripping the blood soaked linens to her.

It seemed like she'd only just hit the ground when Duncan had burst in and, grabbing her by the shoulders, had forced her to stand. He placed a dagger in her hand and told her that her father was fighting with what remained of the knights. The castle was lost he'd stated, they would find her father and escape.

And they did find Bryce Cousland. Emery felt herself grow weak with grief at the memory. Her father had lay in the great hall bleeding his life away onto the ruins of his home. They had rushed to his side. There, in his final moments, in return for Duncan delivering Emery to safety her father had pledged her to the Grey Wardens. Then, as his eyes had grown dull he'd forced the hilt of her family's bloodied heirloom sword into her hands.

She was tattered, travel-worn and caked in mud from head to foot- no one in the camp should suspect that she was a Teyrn's daughter. Nonetheless she pulled her cloak's hood down over her face as far as it would go in case anyone looked too closely - she did not want to be recognized. Then she quickened her pace, trying to catch up with Duncan.

Every second of the last few weeks had seen a relentless internal battle within her. On the one hand her parents were dead and whoever had visited destruction upon her household was a mystery.

But there was also something to hold her together, a shred of hope remained. Over and over she repeated in her head that she was not alone. Her brother, mercifully, was not at Highever during the attack. And so, rather than allowing herself to be consumed by fantasies of revenge or discovering the identity of the villain behind the attack she honed her thoughts and intent on another goal- to find Fergus. A month earlier her he had travelled to Denerim with a chaperone to attend the Harvest festival. Fergus Cousland was fifteen and already enraptured with life at court. Emery was sure he would have found a way to convince Ser Berach to have taken a detour on the way back to Highever and come to Ostagar with the rest of the nobility.

She reached Duncan and fell in step behind him, unsure of how to broach the subject of searching for her brother in the camp. As usual he barely took notice of her presence. How she hated him. Duncan had delivered her from danger only so that she could join his cause. She had been aghast when he'd wrangled this oath from her father as he had lay dying- that he would save her life _only _if she were to be given to the Grey Wardens. They had travelled far together since leaving Highever and during that time derision and disgust for the Warden Commander had evenly given way to hatred. He had been stoic and reserved in her company- never saying more or less than was needed. She suspected that his silence was borne from tact and respect for her grief but it had only allowed her time and isolation to fan the flames of her hate into a raging bonfire.

But however she felt about Duncan she kept it hidden behind a carefully arranged façade of professionalism. A by-product of her noble up-bringing, deference for manners and propriety had been instilled in her bone-deep. Let no-one say that Emery Cousland was surly , had been her resolution. Which was why, though her new state of homelessness and poverty shamed her, she was politely grateful when Duncan had provided her with food and even a rangy mare on their journey.

"Ser Duncan" she said, halting their progress, "I believe Fergus may be camped here, I was hoping to be able to search fro him". Duncan turned to her, he'd long given up on telling her he was not a 'ser'.

"In time," He said calmly, grasping her shoulder firmly, preventing her from moving "Right now we must find the Wardens. I'll give you leave to search for your brother as soon as it is appropriate". Emery fumed behind a mask of civility.

"Of course" she said blankly. Duncan frowned and looked at her meaningfully for a second before sighing and continuing on. In truth he did not know how best to deal with her. He'd left her to her grief during their journey hoping she would be able to work through some of it. Instead she'd been growing increasingly distant, retreating into politeness and propriety.

Emery was the first woman he had ever had under his command and so young too. It was not uncommon for Grey Wardens to be conscripted through tragic circumstances but he had no idea where or how to begin to console her over the loss of her family. Though she had proven herself able and hadn't wept or complained during their travels something about her called for a delicacy he was not accustomed to.

The Grey Warden's camp was nestled in a corner of the ruins under the shadow of a broken tower, secluded from the noble's cacophony of activity. Moth-eaten bedrolls were haphazardly arranged in a tight circle around a modest fire where a dozen or so men conversed quietly.

"Duncan," said a dark skinned elf, getting up "Finally, you've returned. Who is this?" he asked, looking at Emery with huge green eyes. His was hair short and dark and his skin nut brown and unlined, making it impossible to tell his age. And, though they were faded, Emery noticed silvery tattoos traced over his features, painstakingly elaborate and utterly foreign. She knew a Dalish elf when she saw one.

"This is the new recruit, Lady Emery Cousland of Highever." The elf appeared surprised, he and Duncan shared an anxious look, and "There was an unexpected change of plan" Duncan said.

"Very well" the elf replied and sighed. Emery was lost, the two men talked but the true conversation seemed to be occurring in the silences and meaningful looks between words.

"My Lady" Duncan said, turning to her. "This is Airard my lieutenant"

"A pleasure to meet you Lieutenant Airard" Emery said primly. To her irritation a ghost of a smile twitched on the elf's lips. He found her amusing.

"And you too, My Lady"

"Airard," Duncan said, turning to the elf again, "Lady Emery believes her brother is in the noble's camp and needs to find him. The search will go quicker with your help, I hope-but see to it that she rests first". Airard nodded dutifully and Duncan left without a word or a glance at Emery.

The Grey Warden grew quiet as Airard gestured Emery an empty space among them. As she sunk down she suppressed a groan, three weeks of riding had made her stiff in the most uncomfortable places. Airard sat down next to her and began ladling stew out of a pot, chattering ceaselessly about the weather as if unaware of the rest of the wardens silently staring at Emery. They were all men, and all had a rough, battle-weary look about them. She wondered at all the horrible things they had seen and killed and shivered with fear. Their faces were solemn but not unkind;Emery cast her gaze down to the floor nonetheless and accepted her bowl mutely. After a while their conversation quietly started up again, with even Airard joining in. She tried to follow what they were saying but found herself lost at their talk of 'Hurlock' and 'emissaries".

The food wasn't unpleasant but she was unable to finish even one helping. The warden's conversation had fallen into a relaxing cadence and as she stared into the fire her eyes began to droop. Unbidden, memories returned of her father telling tales at the hearth in the great hall. All the keep's children usually found their way there too. She and Fergus would sit amongst stable-hands and scullery-maid's daughters as their father told them all stories of the fearsome Grey Wardens, solemnly charging into battle upon shining white griffons…

* * *

Wiry hands shook Emery awake and her eyes opened to Airard's face. She found herself still in her hunting leathers and weighted down by a ludicrous amount of blankets. She scowled as she tried to kick herself free of them.

"Ah, yes" Airard, laughed "it seems chivalry is not dead or at the very least the image of you caked in mud and passed out in your stew inspired pity amongst the men". As she sat up on the bedroll the elf's eyes were upon her and twinkled with amusement. It seemed he had a permanent smirk attached to his face that suggested he was the only one party to some great secret or colossal joke.

"Where are the wardens?" she asked noticing the camp was empty save them,

"They're with the mages at the rift, although they should be returning shortly" Airard answered and handed her a corner of dry bread and some cheese. Emery's stomach growled and she quickly fell upon the fare.

"There are mages here? Why?" she asked between bites. Mages…she wondered at that. She had never met a trained mage before.

"It was Duncan's idea; he hopes they will repair the chasm once it's been purged of darkspawn. He sent some wardens to the tower to request aide before he left for Highever. They arrived back last night". The food turned to ash in Emery's mouth at the mention of her home. She swallowed and got up.

"Forgive me, Lieutenant. But I've wasted enough time resting, I should find my brother now- with or without your assistance" She started to move but Airard stepped in front of her blocking her path. He laughed lightly.

"No need, my Lady. You're brother's people have found _you_. Duncan reported to the King yesterday and word reached your brother that you were at our camp. He sent a servant last night but we refused to wake you. You seemed too much in need of rest." Emery sagged with relief,

"Thank you, although I wish you had woken me earlier. Please…where is Fergus?"

"Of course, but first, uh, you may, want to find a place to bathe. You're travels have been...long"

"Oh, yes of course" Emery said, suddenly extremely aware of her bedraggled appearance.

Airard helped Emery gather her belongings; her father's sword was wrapped in rags and strapped securely to her pack. The weight of it on her back set a lump in her throat.

Airard and Emery saw to a last-minute tidying-up were about to head off when a group of returning wardens entered the camp, deep in conversation. Most of them Emery recognized from the day before but there were a few that she knew hadn't been at camp with her. One in particular seemed younger than the rest of the wardens. He was a tall blonde man, clad in splint mail that appeared to have seen far fewer patch-jobs and beatings than the other wardens. The other wardens seem to cluster around him as they walked, obviously listening to whatever it was he was saying. Suddenly they all exploded in laughter, from the young warden's blush and pout, the joke was appeared to have been at his expense.

Emery and Airard walked up to meet the group.

"Alistair" he said and laughed, "Glad to see you returned from The Circle intact. When you left you were so sure they would turn you into a toad". The wardens snickered and Alistair seemed to notice Emery at Airard's side,

"Well, you know how mages are- Wait, _This_ is the new recruit" he said incredulously noticing Emery, "Hhargrin, you didn't mention it's a girl!" The man at Alistair's side bellowed with laughter. He was humongous and had a fearsome scar that zigzagged over his bald head and down through his eyebrow.

"Wus a bit 'ard to tell. She an' Duncan got 'ere lookin' an' smellin' like they'd dun rolled in ev'ry bog an' mud pile from 'ere to soulja's peak". The wardens roared with laughter. To Airard's credit he valiantly tried to hide his snigger with a cough. Emery felt her face grow hot. So much for the solemn Wardens she'd seen the day before.

" Could be wurse…" Hhargin added, "'least she ent a mage!"

"I am standing _right_ here, Hhargrin" said a robed man in the group with mock indignation. Everyone laughed. Emery felt uncomfortably out of place.

"Don't worry Levreth" Alistair said, "You're the exception and I'd take a mage over a noble any day of the week. Can you imagine?" Alistair laughed, "We wouldn't get a moments rest from, "my daddy freed you lowly peasants from foreign rule" or "why yes, this _is_ Orlesian silk". Yellow-bellied ponces, the lot of them-"

"Excuse me?" Emery said, pouring in every ounce of indignation and authority she could muster, "I _am, _actually, noble-born". She might have secretly begun to agree with his description of but her face still burned from humiliation.

"Oh yes, sure, _My Lady" _Alistair laughed, and Emery realized he thought she was being ironic "If you're a high-born I must be the king of Ferelden!" The other wardens clearly knew who Emery was- slow, conspiratory smiles seemed have grown over the course of the conversation. Hhargrin had turned away from Alistair and was shaking with silent, suppressed laughter.

No-one noticed Duncan and an elderly elven woman approach.

"Ah, Alistair" he said, momentarily startling everyone at his presence "I see you've met our newest recruit, Lady Emery". The elf women, a servant, curtsied,

"My Lady" she said meekly. The timing of it all was beautiful. And so with that Hhargrin and the other wardens exploded. Alistair looked confused for a moment and then gaped at Emery in disbelief,

"Maker!" he exclaimed, "You were being serious".

"Well…" said Airard jovially. Hhargrin was wiping tears of from his eyes and Levreth was doubled-over laughing, holding his staff for support.

"I take it I missed something" Duncan interjected soberly. Airard shrugged with a smile and Duncan sighed.

"Alright, off with you lot now, "Airard bellowed at the wardens, mood turning "you've had your fun. No doubt you've all got something more important to do- unless you'd like to run some drills with me?" at that the wardens dissipated with groans and snickers. Alistair stayed behind and approached Airard and Emery but before he could speak Airard raised his hand and stopped him,

"You too lad. I think you've said quite enough" Alistair turned tail and stalked dejectedly away. Emery stared at his back as he left, irritation evident on her features.

"Lady Emery" Duncan queried, breaking her out of her reverie, "This Obrinthe, a serving women in your brother's employ". The matronly elf curtsied. She might have been the oldest elf Emery had ever seen. Her hair was a steely grey and her face lined with many years. Unlike Airard, she had no tattoos to speak of. Most likely she had either been raised in an alienage or as a servant, thought Emery.

"My Lady," she said "A tent has been set for you, with some clothes and uh, "her eyes gave Emery's bedraggled appearance a once-over" a, fresh bath"

"Thank-you madam" said Emery properly, trying to scrape together some of her shattered dignity, "You may take me there now". Emery followed Obrinthe and to her consternation so did Airard and Duncan. As if sensing her confusion,

"I too wish to meet with your brother, But don't worry, take your time getting rested" Duncan offered, "In the meantime Airard and I have much to discuss"

They had erected Emery a tent on the outskirts of the main camp, thankfully away from the most of the bustle and festivities. Obrinthe held the flap aside as for Emery. She paused at the entrance and remembering her manners turned to Obrinthe.

"Perhaps you can organize some refreshments for the wardens while I take my bath" Obrinthe nodded,

"Of course My Lady"

"Thank you Obrinthe". With a nod to Airard and Duncan she disappeared and secured the flap behind her.

* * *

The tent was cool and dim inside. Emery realized she was alone for the first time since Highever, and let out a shaky breath she didn't even know she had been holding. There were a only a few furnishings but in the center of the tent was a massive tub steaming with clear water and a table full of sponges and soaps, Emery bit back a moan of longing and began fervently stripping off her hunting leather and linens. They had only ever camped in the wilderness on her journey from Highever which had meant bathing was limited to cold streams and lakes.

She sank into the tub with a sigh and closed her eyes, trying not to think. It was all such a mess.

It occurred to her that in the excitement of the morning she'd barely even thought about her parents. Now that she was alone, however, the black weight on her heart seemed to have returned and was even heavier before. It was because of Fergus she realized. She wondered if anyone had told him. Perhaps news had reached him before she'd even arrived.

She imagined Fergus hobbled by grief, eyes red with crying- he was so young, even for fifteen. She would not be able to bear it- seeing him in that state. Thus far she'd mostly kept it together; truly she hadn't even shed a tear. Instead it was if a yawning emptiness had awoken inside of her that sucked the potency and life out of every emotion she felt. She swallowed the lump in her throat and sank lower into the tub feeling as if she would never be happy again.

The tent flap opened letting in a shaft of light as well as Obrinthe, the old elf.

"My lady" she tsked, as she saw Emery, "Baths are for washing not for sitting in". Emery smiled sadly as Obrinthe secured the tent flap and was immediately reminded of old Nan – she too had been meek and polite in public but clucked and hissed like a mother hen behind closed doors. Nan, who was dead- like almost everyone that had become as essential to her home as the stones and mortar.

"Up you get young thing" Obrinthe said, gesturing impatiently. She grabbed a scrub brush and looked at Emery expectantly. Emery realized the woman intended to scrub her down personally like she was some wayward pup.

"Madam" Emery began, humiliated, "There is no need for you to do that. I can wash myself!"

"What you can do is be quiet" Obrinthe, interjected kindly, "I meant no offense. I saw how you were looking when I came in and I… I heard those wardens talking about what happened to your people. So I'll be begging your pardon but the state you must be in… I wouldn't trust you to tie your own boots".

Emery felt as if she might cry. Obrinthe seemed to be busying inspecting the soaps and scented oils while she waited for her charge to collect herself. Sighing dejectedly Emery stood up in the bath, submitting to Obrinthe's plans.

However fragile the elf believed Emery to be in spirit she had no such illusions about her physical condition. The woman scrubbed Emery pink and raw. When she saw the water had turned murky she ordered her to get out and wait. Emery stood in the nude dripping and shivering as Obrinthe disappeared and brought in several unknown elf women who cleared away the tub and shortly after returned with one freshly filled with water.

Besides the rare instruction Obrinthe and her helpers seemed to treat Emery like a piece of furniture- not even a curtsy or the perfunctory "my lady" escaped any of them. Emery felt strangely put at ease by their behavior and offered them the same indifference.

As the time passed Emery's thought's drifted into oblivion and the world around her disappeared as she finally let go. When Obrinthe began to wash her hair she noticed fat tears slowly trailing down Emery's cheeks but made no comment. Finally, when the girl could get no cleaner she swaddled her in linens and towels, sat her down on a stool and began to run a comb through the length of Emery's long hair.

Then the old elf spoke for the first time in what seemed like hours,

"Now My Lady" she said, breaking the spell "Which style do you like best?" Emery sniffed and answered in a cracked voice,

"Usually the old Ferelden styles,"

"Ah, traditional, then?" approved Obrinthe, as she began to deftly separating Emery's locks, "I am glad- Those Orlesian fashions are bit much for my tastes – and for my old fingers". Emery sighed as Obrinthe massaged scented oils into her scalp and hair,

"I worried for my brother in Denerim, you know" said Emery wondering at the old elf, "but it seems like there was no need. I am glad he found you. Although, that he would take on a lady's maid is bit…unusual". Obrinthe laughed,

"It was_ I_ who found the young lord and begged for a job as a serving woman. I'm not a lady's maid". Emery was genuinely shocked,

"Well, then I suggest a change in career," she said.

"Ah, "said Obrinthe smiling wanly, "I should have said tha tI was _once_ a lady's maid- but haven't been for many years. Unfortunately for me, Denerim's ladies like their maids how they like their dresses- pretty, unwrinkled and fashionable".

Emery scoffed in derision,

"Just another reason to be glad that I have never lived at court. Those women…" she trailed off. Obrinthe stiffened imperceptibly at Emery's words.

"But my lady, surely such a luxurious life would be wonderful?" Obrinthe asked carefully, trying to keep her voice light,

"I suppose I've always thought they were beautiful, but…" she sat up straighter and tried to find the right words to explain, " My father used to tell me that having money and authority isn't a privilege- it's a responsibility. That people who have power are held to a higher standard of honor and duty"

"Your father was a wise man" nodded Obrinthe, looking at Emery curiously

"He was" said Emery in a brittle voice, her heart hurting.

Obrinthe attached the last of the pins to Emery hair and helped her into loose pants and a long, a deep blue tunic. She belted the garment at the waist and presented her with new leather boots. Emery was faint with relief that she had not been asked to wear a dress.

Obrinthe solemnly returned to Emery the dagger she had been carrying since Duncan gave it to her at Highever. She stuck it in her belt and the elf looked her over and nodded in approval.

She was rather pleased with her handiwork. She had scraped away the dust, mud and dirt to reveal a girl of uncommon beauty. The colour of the tunic set off Emery's pale complexion and brought out the tones of blue in her large grey eyes. The girl's volumous hair was now also arranged in dark coils that gleamed in the light.

"Very well, My Lady. I think it's about time you see your brother"

Emery agreed. She felt more like herself than she had in ages.

"Obrinthe, "Emery began, "How can I ever thank you for today and, I suspect, caring for my brother and keeping him out of trouble? "The elf seemed genuinely surprised at her gratitude and even a little embarrassed. Emery waved her refusals off- she would find some way to repay her or at least to show that her actions were greatly appreciated.

* * *

Before they exited the tent Obrinthe told Emery that the Grey wardens had rotated shifts throughout the day to "guard" her,

"They seem to think you'll go running off the second they aren't watching you". It was not unreasonable. However polite Emery had been there was no way Duncan could have believed that she truly wanted to be there.

Emery rolled her eyes when she saw what was waiting for her outside the tent,

"Well, if it isn't the King of Ferelden," she said icily, "Please excuse me while I curtsy. Oh wait." Alistair laughed nervously,

"I might've deserved that, uh, My Lady?" Emery stared at him coldly. Obrinthe shook her head and excused herself to go and fetch Duncan and Airard from the Grey Warden camp.

"But truly," Alistair cleared his throat after she had disappeared, "I apologize". Emery waved him off dismissively before sighing and letting her stern expression drop to reveal one of exhaustion,

"Say no more of it. I've a suspicion you were set up by your fellow wardens" she shrugged, "…And there might be some truth in what you said. Although, understand, not all high-borns are 'yellow-bellied ponces' just as I am sure not all wardens are blundering idiots" she pointedly looked at him as she said this.

"Wow…harsh, although I might've deserved that too. Consider me sufficiently reprimanded" He grinned lop-sidedly at her before clearing his throat awkwardly and contemplating his boots.

They waited in an uncomfortable silence until Obrinthe arrived back with Duncan and Airard. There was an awkward moment when Alistair, before leaving, attempted to bow but appeared to change his mind half way through and turned and fled in the opposite direction. The result made Emery shake her head out of mixture of amusement and embarrassment for him.

Obrinthe led Emery and the Wardens through through the camp. Airard subtly fell back to join Emery,

" Your Ladyship" he whispered,

" Yes, Lieutenant"

" You seem better than before" he said,

" Thank you, I guess" Emery said lamely. They continued a few steps in an awkward silence. Airard seemed restless. " Lieutenant, was there something you wanted to ask me-?"

" Ah yes" said Airard quickly, " I grew up with the Dalish and I don't spend a lot of time with high-born folk, so I'm not familiar with the nuances of your culture but…". Airard trailed off but Emery had an inkling where this was going.

" You think I am offended by-"

" Truly, Alistair didn't mean anything by what he said." Airard interrupted quickly, " He's not always as, uh, thoughtful, as he should be and most of what he says is in jest- but he's a good man". Emery warmed at Airard's sincere defence of his comrade.

" Don't worry Airard, I've already accepted his apology." She smiled thinly, " besides I'm more thick-skinned than I look". Airard blew out a sigh of relief and his familiar grin crept back on his face,

" That is definitely a good thing, My Lady. As the most junior of the wardens you suspect you too will be forced to spend a lot of time together,"

" Ah, something to look forward to then" she said dryly and Airard laughed.

They crested the hill upon which Fergus camped. Emery still didn't know whether her brother had been informed of the tragedy at Highever- either way, she looked to the upcoming meeting with trepidation. The sun had begun to set and the land was bathed in a warm orange glow. Obrinthe held the flap open and Emery took a deep breath before entering her brother's tent.


	2. Chapter 2

**Truth, like light, blinds. Falsehood, on the contrary, is a beautiful twilight that enhances every object.**  
- Albert Camus

The tent was lavishly furnished and decorated in the Cousland colours with trinkets and platters of food lay scattered over all the surfaces. Fergus Cousland lounged on a pile of velvet cushions in the corner, a goblet in hand. Emery startled when she noticed how much he had changed. He was dressed in the latest, no doubt costly, fashion and seemed to be cultivating a rather sad, scraggly-looking goatee.

"Sister!" he drawled happily at the sight of her and she realized two things- first that, given his mood, he hadn't been informed of the attack and second that the boy had been at the wine. " I can't believe you're actually here. Finally got tired of mother's nagging and decided to join the fun?". Pain lanced Emery at his words and she burned with humiliation for him. She'd known it would fall to her to inform him about their family's demise- it was her duty. But there was more; joining the Grey Wardens meant that she would no longer have claim to Highever. Fergus would be heir to the title.

" Fergus, " she began, and gestured to Airard and Duncan, " This is Warden Commander Duncan and his Lieutenant, Airard". Fergus brightened at her words.

" Well met, wardens. I had heard my sister travelled here with you. How my father managed to employ you as escorts…" he trailed off, Emery cringed inwardly at his presumption before Fergus clapped her on the shoulder and continued, " I guess it's always the best for you, right Em?". The group stood awkwardly in silence for a moment. Emery walked stiffly over to the table in the centre of the tent and sat down, gesturing at the free seats to the others but the wardens remained standing.

" Fergus" Emery began carefully, " There is something we must discuss-"

" I too have something to tell you" Fergus interrupted excitedly and grabbed her hands.

" Fergus, wai-"

" Something wonderful has happened", he interrupted, eyes lit with child-like excitement and grinning ridiculously, " Sister, I have fallen in love". Emery was startled into silence and to her horror Fergus continued. " She's the most lovely creature I have ever seen and she danced with _me _at the Harvest Ball, twice!".

" Oh" said Emery lamely. Maker, why did Duncan and Airard have to be here for this, " Who is she?" she said in a quiet voice, trying to ignore the Wardens' presence.

" Ah, of course, how silly of me" laughed Fergus, " she is Habren of South Reach"

" Arl Bryland's daughter?" Emery stated distractedly, " If you are serious, she'll make a good match" . Fergus blew out a sigh of relief,

" I had hoped you would approve" he beamed at Emery and pulled her into a tight hug, not noticing her dazed expression. This was a disaster, how could she tell him now? She'd never seen him so excited. Emery wanted suddenly to flee from the tent and her brother's smiles.

" Well, I cannot wait to meet her" She said with false cheer, extricating herself from Fergus' embrace.

" Oh! Of course you will- and soon too" he said animatedly, " she arrives tomorrow"

" tomorrow? How…wonderful" Emery managed to force out, " I suspect you should get your rest then". She began to move to the exit but was stopped by Fergus.

" No Em, wait!" he said jovially, " you must stay! You and your wardens have to at least share a drink with me. We should be celebrating! Can you imagine mother's reaction? Me, getting betrothed before you – she'll be positively scandalized". Maker had she ever been so young and sure of herself? Emery felt sick. She turned to him with a pained smile,

" No, dear brother. You must excuse me. I think I'm over-tired from the journey. I'll meet this Habren with you tomorrow?" and with that she fled the tent, pushing aside the flap violently.

Airard and Duncan quickly caught up. They walked in silence but Emery could feel Duncan's gaze on her and knew that if she turned she would find his features infuriatingly filled with pity. Just before they entered the Grey Warden camp she could bear it no longer and turned violently to face him.

" Do you wish to say something _Ser_ Duncan?" She whispered angrily? He took a moment to find the right words,

" Emery, I cannot imagine what you must be going through but-". Her careful composure snapped for the first time.

" Oh spare me your platitudes! Just call me coward, already"

" I don't think that, " He said carefully, " but I do think what you're doing is unwise- you should tell Fergus what happened"

" Why?" She asked savagely, " Why shouldn't I be able to wait to tell him- nothing will change. My family will still be dead tomorrow and Highever will still be in ruins." Duncan was silent for a moment and Airard awkwardly cleared his throat.

" All the same" Duncan said finally, " he'll be upset knowing that you delayed in telling him the news". Emery waved her hand at him dismissively and scoffed. The anger fleeing from her.

" He's my little brother. I'm used to him being angry at me." She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose, " Maker, he is so young and carefree- and he thinks he is in love!" she threw up her hands in exasperation at the last part, " My parent's death will break him… I just want him to have one more good day. And then I will… I'll tell him tomorrow. Perhaps the presence of his Habren will help to console him somewhat."

" Very well" said Duncan tiredly, " but all the same your Joining ritual will take place tonight". Emery looked up at him, startled. During their journey he had mentioned that there would be some kind of ceremony or test before she could be counted as a full warden but he'd been vague on the details.

" Tonight? Must it really be so soon?"

" Now that the safety of your brother is confirmed" Duncan said, " There can be no delay. Levreth has already been sent to gather the necessary materials. No doubt he'll return soon- the ritual doesn't take long to prepare"

The three drew close to the Warden's camp in silence. Before they could enter, however, they were stopped by two soldiers. The firelight glinted off their silverite mail and Emery caught sight of the Royal Crest adorning their chest-plates. The men bowed to Duncan.

" Commander, " began the shorter of the two " His Royal Highness, King Cailan, calls for Lady Emery Cousland right away". Duncan stifled a groan and nodded. Time was short and he needed to get on with the Joining but he couldn't refuse the King.

" The ritual will take place when you return" He said to Emery who nodded.

She and the King's soldiers departed. Airard and Duncan stood in silence for a few moments, watching them go.

" Would you like me to follow her at a distance?" Airard asked. Turning to Duncan.

" No" he replied,

" but you still believe she is in danger?" to this question Duncan did not reply.

* * *

Eventually they sat down in the empty Warden camp. The rest of the men had been sent to a ruined amphitheater to await the joining ritual. Both Wardens were deep in thought until Airard spoke.

" Duncan," he began carefully, " I think you should let her go- release her from the Wardens".

" You know we can't" he said, tiredly.

" Yes you can! Our plans failed when Bryce died. You think she's a substitute but she isn't" Airard stood up and began to pace restlessly, " I…I fear her father was killed because of us, and now we are making her a target, just as we did Bryce." Before either could say anything more footsteps sounded and Alistair entered the glow of the fire, concern marring his features.

" Alistair" Duncan greeted him,

" I came to find you" the young warden began, " everything's been prepared"

" Thank you. We only await our new recruit- she's with the King currently" Duncan said and then noticed Alistair's expression, " is there something bothering you?"

" Oh don't know" Alistair told him with false cheer, " It could be that tomorrow we're all set to march into a stinking pit in search of some darkspawn- or maybe it's the fact that we're all about to witness a joining ritual- with only one person, who is a girl-" he stopped short and grew serious, " There's a good chance she might not make it- that should _really_ improve morale for tomorrow". Duncan and Airard sighed in unison- he had a point. Undertaking a Joining Ritual with only one candidate was unusual and generally only happened in times of emergency such as when trying to save one who had been exposed to the taint.

" I've travelled with Emery since we left Highever and from what I've seen I think she'll pull through" Duncan reassured after a moment, " she's strong-willed". Duncan often had good instincts when it came to such things but Alistair wasn't convinced- and he wasn't the only one. After Airard had gotten hold of the story from Duncan, the circumstances of Emery's enlistment had quickly spread through the Warden camp during the night. The devastation of her family and fortunes made for a good tale and the Wardens who listened all shook their heads in sympathy. It didn't help that she was a waif of a thing either, and there was something about her the bespoke a lack of experience in battle. All in all the Wardens were finding their trust in their Commander stretched thin by what they thought was a baffling choice of candidate.

Airard spoke, " Just go back and tell the rest of the men it shouldn't be much longer". Alistair looked as if he was about it leave but stopped.

" That's not all" he admitted, sighing " I heard what you were saying before I arrived. Well, at least the end of it- the bit about Bryce Cousland being killed because of us- That's her father, right? Hhargren told me what happened to her family before she came here". Airard and Duncan glanced at each other before telling Alistair to sit down.

"Perhaps its best we explain" Duncan said to him," I've known Bryce for many years- we fought together a long time ago. He's always respected the Grey Wardens and was…sympathetic to our recent problems."

" Problems?" queried Alistair, " You mean the fact that there are so few Wardens about these days?"

" Yes" Airard answered, " The Grey Wardens are dwindling, but that's just a symptom of something greater. We are no longer in held high regard with the people. It's been so long since there was a blight- they've forgotten why they need us. We're losing our foothold in this country".

" There's more" Duncan began, "After Soldier's Peak the Wardens have been regarded with suspicion by most of the noble class. Bryce was different. Many years ago I offered him a place in the Wardens, he considered it an honour to be asked and only refused because of his duties as Teyrn. Recently, I approached him again with the same offer-"

" but he must have been pretty old by now…" Alistair interrupted but trailed off as he put it all together" You didn't mean for him to do any fighting, did you?- you needed him for his political ties"

" Precisely" Duncan said tiredly. " That was why I travelled to Highever- Bryce had agreed to join us. He knew what he was getting into, though- knew we intended him to be a political asset. He'd fulfilled his duties to Highever and believed Emery fit to be named Teyrna. If he had been made Warden- yes, he might have given up his title but the friendships and allegiences he'd built up as Teyrn would still be there. Not to mention his daughter would be one of the most high-ranking people in the country" Alistair was deep in thought for a moment.

" I thought Grey Wardens were supposed to be neutral to things like politics" he quietly said to which Duncan laughed bitterly.

" An admirable notion " he mused, " and I would like to boast that that were true but…" Duncan trailed off.

" Ferelden is _changing_" Airard cut in, uncharacteristically solemn, " and we will be swept away in the coming change if we don't do…something". The three men thought on these words in grave silence until Alistair spoke.

" So Bryce Cousland…you think someone killed him because they didn't like the idea of the Wardens getting their hands on an ex-Teyrn?"

" That is what the timing of the attack suggests" Said Duncan, "and I'm sure its related somehow, but I think there may be more to it than that".

The conversation seemed to be at an end and the Wardens sat in silence waiting for Emery to return. They could hear the sound of the Noble's camp faintly in the distance- with the expedition into the caverns leaving in the morning it seemed that everyone was trying squeeze in one more party. Alistair added another log to the fire and a thought suddenly occurred to him.

" You two were pretty chatty just now" He said suspiciously, " you usually like to keep a lid on your scheming. Wait- Don't tell me I'm due for a promotion…although _Leuitenant_ Alistair does have a better ring than " Junior Warden" ". Duncan coughed in amusement.

" What makes you think we'd jump you up to Leuitenant?" Airard asked, arching his brow and grinning, " what about just plain, Warden Alistair?"

"Aha! Then, it's settled, " Alistair announced triumphantly, " Warden it is"

" You smart-mouthed…" Airard trailed off, laughing.

* * *

The walk to the King's tent had been long and awkwardly silent. The two soldiers had flanked Emery and escorted her through the camp. When the men arrived, delaying the cryptic Warden ritual, she had initially been relieved. However, as she drew closer to the large tent she assumed belonged to the King she'd grown nervous. Emery had seen King Cailan from a distance but hadn't met him personally. Her trips outside Highever had been severely limited and strictly chaperoned. She had only ever attended official and ceremonial gatherings which usually placed her amongst a crowd of nobles, far away from the royal party. In recent months, however, her parents seemed have loosened her leash so to speak- allowing her to attend parties and festivals if she so wished. Their intentions were obvious- every conversation she'd had with them in the past few months had been about marriage.

Her escorts held aside the tent-flap and she straightened her tunic before stepping through. The interior was well-lit and decorated as luxuriously as expected. Two men were leaning over a map looked up at her as she entered. They were both dressed finely -King Cailan and…Maker, one of them was Teyrn Loghain. After spending many an afternoon as a child studying Ferelden history, meeting the legendary general was no small matter. Emery quickly considered their appearances. Loghain's pallid complexion and dark, sunken eyes suggested that he spent little time outdoors in daylight. Alternatively Calain was tanned and glowed with youth and good health. She faced the King and curtsied deeply,

" Your Highness" she said before turning to Loghain and doing the same, " Your Grace" she addressed him.

" Lady Emery, " Cailan said kindly, " It is a pleasure. Would that we had met in better circumstances, but I called you here to give my condolences". Emery felt herself grow still.

" Yes, it is indeed a tragedy" Loghain drawled, " You have my sympathies" . Emery was stunned- for someone who had reportedly risen up from nothing Loghain employed the most pompous, grating accent she'd ever heard. And he didn't look very sympatheticeither- rather he regarded her as if she were some kind offal he had discovered on his boot. Cailan seemed not to notice his apparent disdain for her. So much for childhood heroes, she thought.

" Rest assured" Cailan began, " After the darkspawn are cleared I will see to it personally that the murder of your mother and father is investigated and those responsible brought to justice". He boyishly flipped back his floppy golden hair.

" And I hear you are to be made a Grey Warden" Loghain stated sourly, before Emery could thank the King.

"Yes, your Grace." Emery said, " It was my father's dying request that I join the Wardens"

" Request?" scoffed Loghain, " From what I hear it was more like entrapment. Didn't your _Warden Commander_ only agree to escort you to safety upon the condition that you be sold to the Wardens". Emery flushed with humiliation at Loghain's unkind but nonetheless accurate summary of events. She wondered how he was so well-informed. Cailan laughed awkwardly,

" Nevermind that" he said, trying to salvage the conversation, " I'm sure things worked out as they should. It is after all an honor to join the Grey Wardens". Emery wanted to say that if he thought it so great then he could take her place.

" Really, Cailan, I'd hoped you'd outgrown your obsession with myths and legends- you must attend to _reality_" said Loghain. And with that the two men seemed to enter and argument regarding the upcoming expedition. Emery tried to remain silent and unimposing during their exchange but when she heard Cailan's plans, she couldn't help herself,

" Your Highness, you're planning to accompany the wardens into the caves?" she blurted out. The conversation between Loghain and Cailan ceased as they seemed to remember she was still there,

" Ah, yes" said Cailan, " Loghain and Duncan seem to both think this is too dangerous, but I am not convinced. From what we have gathered it seems to be just a few random darkspawn. To be honest I had hoped for a Blight- like in the tales" he sighed and shrugged. Emery was unsure how exactly to respond to this- perhaps Cailan had not been told the same "tales" as she had. Everything she had heard about a Blight suggested it was a terrifying and tragic time in which many suffered or lost their lives. The silence stretched in the tent before Calain spoke again.

" Perhaps I will fight alongside you tomorrow, Lady Emery" he said, " I hear you initiation is tonight?". Emery nodded, taking the hint that she was being dismissed and excused herself politely, thanking the King and the Teyrn. She exited the tent and allowed herself to be escorted back to the Grey Warden camp. The meeting with the King had shaken her somewhat. It'd been easy before to think of people like Cailan and Loghain to be somehow more than mere men. Meeting them, however brought about the realization that they were just people like her- it was not a comforting epiphany.

* * *

The Kings soldiers disappeared as soon as they had deposited Emery back in company of the Wardens. As they led her to the Joining, the mood amidst Alistair, Airard and Duncan was depressingly somber which did nothing to allay Emery's nerves. They stood at the threshold of a crumbling amphitheater lit by flaming torches and entered. Just before stepping through Alistair, Airard and Duncan each donned a hooded robe that had been produced seemingly out of nowhere. Entering the ruin Emery saw that the rest of the wardens were clad similarly- there were so few of them she realized. They stood in a loose circle which she was directed to stand in the center of. Alistair took a spot amongst the other wardens and Airard and Duncan disappeared.

There was no turning back now, Emery thought. She'd be giving up a lot- her claim to Highever, her noble status, her friends and her cushy life. But despite it being her father who had given her over to the wardens she was cautiously optimistic about the future- never before had the idea of starting over in a new life seem so appealing. It was selfish but leaving Highever and ultimately the responsibilities of Teyrn to Fergus was a relief- although he was hardly ready for it. Emery quickly made a resolution -She'd soon be a Grey Warden but nothing would stop her preparing Fergus for their father's title.

Duncan returned with Airard who was holding a large silver goblet. They entered the circle and faced Emery.

" Tonight we welcome a sister into our ranks- Emery of Highever" Airard said. Emery noticed that her title had been omitted- this is how it would be from here on, she realized.

" But first she must be submitted to the taint" Duncan announced and the Warden grew still. Airard handed her the silver goblet. The smell that wafted from its contents caused bile to rise in her throat. She looked into the goblet saw its contents- blood? but it was a darker than any other she'd seen – almost black.

" What is this?" she asked, " blood?" Airard nodded.

" The only way to become a Warden is to imbibe the blood of our enemy- we take the taint into our own bodies and use its power to fight them" said Duncan. Emery reeled momentarily at his words,

" This is.._darkspawn _blood. Are you insane?" she asked sincerely, looking around the circle. She waited for one of the Wardens to announce suddenly that they were having her on- that it was a joke, but everyone remained silent. " I'm no healer- and I'm no expert on darkspawn" Emery continued, " but surely this is dangerous".

" Yes, not all survive the Joining" Duncan stated simply, the torches seemed to flare momentarily and Emery was struck speechless. This changed everything- how was she suppose to help her brother if she was dead? Her future plans dissolved to dust. Duncan continued to speak, "Let me remind you that this was the deal your father agreed to- he placed you in my care - promised you as a Warden". Emery was suddenly angry, she shoved the goblet back into Airard's hands, some of its contents sloshing over the rim.

" How dare you!" she shouted at Duncan, " if there's anyone who's going back on any promises or deals- its _you_. You agreed to keep me safe and _alive_. Surely this ritual runs contrary to that? My father never would have agreed had he known the risks"

The air was charged with tension and the robed wardens in the circle were statues as they watched Emery. Duncan appeared slightly taken aback at her outburst but addressed her sternly, "He did what he thought was best". That was it then. Emery knew she couldn't walk away- for the sake or her family's honour she could not back out of this promise. He _knew_ she realized, Duncan knew of her family's reputation- that a Cousland was taught to never refuse or shirk their duty. She'd been backed into a corner.

" Fine" she said quietly and took back the goblet from Airard. It didn't matter, she thought. There was no way she'd let this stupid blood kill her, in front of these stupid wardens with their stupid secret rituals and… stupid shiny goblets. She wouldn't let herself die- couldn't let herself. Before any of them could say otherwise Emery drained the cup's contents, threw it to the stone floor and stormed out of the circle, pushing past the wardens. She made it three steps before she fell to her knees. It felt as if she was suddenly burning and freezing simultaneously and she clutched her stomach as her insides twisted into knots. Her vision blurred and she heard the other wardens' far-away shouts. Silent blackness engulfed Emery as she passed out and hit the stone floor with a jarring thud.


	3. Chapter 3

**…Her soul in division from itself**  
**Climbing, falling She knew not where,**  
**Hiding amid the cargo of a steamship,**  
**Her knee-cap broken, that girl I declare**  
**A beautiful lofty thing, or a thing**  
**Heroically lost, heroically found…**

W.B Yeats, _A Crazed Girl_

Emery awoke to a hammering headache and a foul taste in her mouth. She shifted where she lay trying to work out the ache in her muscles. Conversation drifted to her as she became more aware of her surroundings. Emery opened her eyes and sat up- she was back in the Warden camp. She had little memory of what transpired after the joining - the abominable after-taste the darkspawn blood left was the only indication that it had not merely been a bad dream. The dim light of dawn was just beginning to creep in and it was freezing. All the wardens were gone save Hhargren and the mage- who she remembered was called Levreth. The two men huddled over the cooking pot and seemed to be avidly watching its contents. Their breath puffed out before them as they spoke, a testament to the temperature of the air. Levreth turned to her, noticing she was awake, and spoke,

" Morning, warden" He said,

" Er, and to you" Emery croaked and then blinked. She remembered the man from the previous day but up close it was difficult to avoid noting how handsome he was. He wore mage's robes which Emery had never found attractive; rather it was his unkempt russet hair and striking grey eyes that she noticed. As if aware of her admiration the mage grinned widely. Emery sighed, any attraction immediately trickling away at the sight of Levreth's smug expression.

" So…What now?" Emery asked.

" Darkspawn blood, eh? nasty stuff- am I right?" he said, still grinning.

The mage took a second to rummage in a satchel before tossing her a flask. She caught it and took hearty swig before violently coughing and spluttering when the liquid hit her throat. It seemed to be stripping her insides as it made its way to her belly. Hhargren's attention was immediately turned from food to her.

" I thought you were giving me water!" She choked, " what in Andraste's name is that stuff"

" Does it matter?" Levreth laughed, " It's for the after-taste"

" No kidding" she said, clutching her throat," I don't think I'll be able to taste anything every again".

" Its no' tha' bad" Hhagren laughed.

" Perhaps it was a bit much for our genteel noble" Levreth joked.

" we wus just talkin' bout tha" Hhargen said, " Ent you a Couslind? Might mek a nice change 'aving you with us. We're all farmer's sons and bastids round 'ere" he laughed.

" Good to see everyone's awake" said Airard cheerfully as he entered with the camp with Alistair at his heels. " let's pack up- we're all assembling in the amphitheater before we head to the caverns"

The other wardens conversed lightly as they worked but Emery remained silent. She wasn't sure how she fitted into to everything yet and was feeling more than a little awkward after her outburst at the joining ritual. She'd tried to be optimistic but it was difficult to look forward to being a Warden now that she'd been forced to drink monster blood. What other nasty surprises lay in store for her?

Before they were finished clearing up everything Airard took Emery aside and handed her a bulky package filled with two simple, but well-made, daggers and a new set of leathers.

" Here," he said, "We threw your old ones out"

" Thank-you"said Emery, surprised, but Airard waved her off dismissively,

" We don't expect new recruits to arm themselves" he stated, "and it'll all be put to good use in the next few days, trust me". Emery swallowed at that nervously. After the attack on Highever she'd been forced to admit to herself that she was no warrior. Wits and desperation are what had truthfully gotten her through the battle although prior to that night she would have boasted herself quite proficient. From a young age she'd petulantly demanded to be taught how to fight and Bryce, ever the doting father, had patiently seen to her desires. But now she saw how selective that education had been. She'd been taught the moves, the parries and blocks but no one had discussed with her what any of it meant. Drills and sparring had been nothing more than a game to her- something to be good at.

They had taught her how to fight without ever intending her to do harm, and she'd learnt without ever thinking she would one day need to defend her life. Fighting had been about winning not killing. She remembered laughing at her friends who were so obsessed with learning the most fashionable dances and songs from court. Had she been any different? Learning to fight had been about as useful to her as learning the Farandole would have been to a soldier.

* * *

Everything seemed to be happening very fast. After they had finished at the camp they were all told to don their battle-gear, Emery had to awkwardly excuse herself to find a private copse of bushes in which to change. This was of course not before several lewd suggestions courtesy of Levreth. Annoyingly she was sure she'd heard them all snickering as she'd departed.

Her new armor was stiff and pinched a bit but was otherwise a surprisingly good fit. She'd seen better worksmanship but it was finer quality than she suspected the Wardens could afford and she found that she rather liked the reddish tint that the leather had. The daggers were also good quality and she wondered how much Duncan had told Airard and the other wardens of her fighting skills- obviously enough to know that she dual-wielded weapons. Her thoughts turned to her father's sword, now _that_ was a quality blade. It would be a little heavier than she was used to, and longer, but maybe she should…The image of the sword in its sad scraps of rag filtered into her mind and she shuddered at the thought of unwrapping it. She'd done so only once during the journey and only because Duncan had insisted the blood should be washed off. So she thrown it into a stream and then trying not to look at it, had wrapped it again in the same, ugly stained cloth.

Soon she and the other Wardens headed deeper into the ruins. As they drew closer to their destination they were joined by a stream of nobles who had supposedly awoken to see the expedition off. Emery almost jumped out of her skin when a firm hand grabbed her shoulder and she wheeled around to face a familiar face.

" Frederick" she greeted him, surprised. Frederick was a Fergus' closest friend- they had practically grown up together and were often mistaken for brothers. If he was here it meant that Fergus was surely close-by. If she were to see him now she'd have to explain everything to him- her family's demise, the wardens, Fergus' new status as Teyrn. Emery's breakfast curdled in her stomach.

" Emery?" Fredreick said, shocked, " By the Maker! I thought that was you- _why _are you dressed like that? You look as if you mean to join the fighting. Is that really proper? You can't be…" he trailed off before finally asking, " Does Fergus know about this?"". Emery wasn't sure how to answer him. Luckily, it seemed, Alistair stepped in,

" Excuse me Ser," He said to Frederick tightly, " But we must be on our way". Without giving him a chance to reply he dragged Emery forward by her hand to follow the other wardens who hadn't stopped to wait for them. They slowly weaved through the throng, trying to reach Airard and the others.

" What was that for?" Emery said indignantly, trying her best to ignore Alistair's vice grip on her hand.

" I think the phrase you're searching for is 'thank-you'" He said smartly.

" Frederick is a friend"

" Mmm hmmm, sure, okay" Alistair said condescendingly, " And I'm sure that's why you looked like someone kicked your puppy when you saw him". Emery had no reply to this instead she growled low in her throat and wrenched her hand out of his angrily. The two wardens reached the entrance to the ruined amphitheater. The narrow archway was causing a bottleneck which slowed the crowd to an almost complete stop. Everyone, including Emery and Alistair was packed uncomfortably against one another as they tried to force their way though.

Alistair was tense. Emery was wedged tightly in front of him and he noticed for the first that she was significantly shorter than him. Only slightly mussed from sleep, her dark hair was still in the style that Obrinthe had arranged it the previous day. The remnants of whatever perfumes she had used drifted up to Alistair. He found that the woody fragrance made him far more uncomfortable than their unfortunate proximity.

Emery could feel the discomfort radiating off Alistair behind her. She could not deny that the manner they were plastered to each other would probably be described as "most improper" by her mother. She was glad her back was to him as her face was prone sport a particularly spectacular shade of red when she was embarrassed.

After what seemed like an eternity they lurched through the other end of the entrance way and Emery, catching sight of the Duncan and Airard, made her way speedily to the other wardens with nary a backward glance to see if Alistair was following. Levreth and Duncan seemed to be concluding a serious conversation when she drew near. Duncan dismissed Levreth who quickly turned from the wardens and left, almost colliding with Emery on his way to the exit.

" Where are you going?" asked Emery, annoyed.

" It's a top secret mission, beautiful" He said, grinning, " although I might be tempted to surrender a few details…for a kiss".

" I see you've been hitting the lyrium a bit too hard, mage" she said curtly. Wardens. She had yet to meet a single one that didn't infuriate her.

" My Lady, you wound me" he said, still grinning. " As much as I enjoy flirting with pretty girls…Well, I have places to go, monsters to kill…"

"And maidens to deflower?" added Alistair helpfully as he approached, none too happy at being left behind.

" That too" grinned Levreth. He winked devilishly at Emery before turning and heading toward the exit. The swathe of nobles saw his crooked staff marking him a mage and gave him a wide berth.

Emery and Alistair stood and watched him go.

" You know I've yet to come across a mage who isn't a philandering crackpot" Alistair said, mostly to himself.

" From what I've heard of the Circle I suppose they have to take their fun where they can get it" Emery answered blandly.

* * *

It seemed to take forever for anything to happen. Emery silently sat amongst some of the other wardens trying not to get too annoyed at Alistair's jokes. Blessedly everyone seemed to ignore her. She suspected that due to her being female as well as high born they didn't really know how exactly to treat her. The nobles milled about the place and watched the wardens avidly. Finally Duncan appeared before them,

" Wardens, the King is on his way. We are to ready ourselves to descend into the caverns". Everyone rose and donned grim expression. Emery felt her stomach lurch at the thought of the upcoming battle. The Wardens checked over their weapons and assembled in a loose column. Before Alistair and Emery could join them Duncan interceded.

" You two won't be accompanying the expedition" He said matter-of-factly. Emery felt the knot in her gut loosen in relief.

"What?" asked Alistair surprised, " We're not going with you?"

" I need the two of you to patrol The Wilds." Duncan said calmly, and handed Alistair a tattered map, " We will be in the caverns and the Kings is only leaving a small group of soldiers to defend the camp. You're not missing out, I'm sure you'll run into a few fights out there, not to worry" . Emery sensed Alistair's disappointment but he seemed more upset at being left behind than missing the fighting.

" Very well" He said, sighing " I suppose all of you should only be gone for a few days". He unfurled the aging vellum and scanned the patrol routes Duncan had drawn in.

" Yes" Duncan agreed, " I don't think it will take long. Once we find where these caves join with the Deep Roads the circle mages will collapse those tunnels", Duncan turned to Emery, " I have not had a chance to welcome you properly to the Grey Wardens, Emery. For that I am sorry. I suspect that after your Joining you do not think of us- especially me, too kindly. When I return I will explain many things that may help you understand…" he trailed off. " In the meantime, Alistair will look after you" .Nearby Emery heard a trumpet sound.

" The King approaches" noted Duncan, " I must take my leave"

" Maker be with you Duncan" Alistair said sincerely and Emery saw Duncan's face soften.

" Make be with us all" he replied and grasped Alistair's shoulder affectionately before turning and leaving. Emery stiffened, something about Duncan's expression had gnawed at her memory and then she realized- her father used to look at her in much the same way. She was suddenly filled with wave of homesickness and longing so strong it seemed a physical ache. But even if she could return home her family was dead. Guiltily she realized that she hadn't thought of them little since arriving at Ostagar. How could she be so insensitive to joke and bicker casually after what had happened? Her thoughts tumbled into a tirade of self-depreciating reprimands.

" Emery. Emery?" queried Alistair before waving a hand in front of her eyes, breaking her out of her solemn reverie. She looked up at him. " Are you, alright? " he asked, " You seemed to, I don't know- disappear for a second". Emery wasn't able to answer Alistair as all conversation in the vicinity abruptly ceased when Cailan made his entrance.

Alistair had to suppress the urge to roll his eyes. The kindest thing you could say about Cailan's armor is that it was "flashy". The whole set looked as if it had been dipped in gold and caught the light so it shone like a second sun.

" it's a bit…much. Isn't it?" said Emery sourly.

" At least he'll be easy to find in the dark" said Alistair, amused.

" I suspect for the darkspawn as much as anyone else" Emery said darkly.

Cailan preceded to launch into a speech about glory and honour to which Emery paid little attention. Instead she scanned the crowd to try and locate her brother. The very idea of knowing that he was here made her sweat nervously but she didn't want to be caught by surprise like she had with Frederick. She quietly arranged and rehearsed different explanations to Fergus in her head but every situation she could imagine led to him in angry tears.

Alistair listened to Cailan's words and had to furiously suppress the urge to share his own snide remarks with Emery. Her moods were so erratic and difficult to predict, if he was honest she scared him a bit. It wasn't the stormy scowl she seem to wear almost permanently- although that was the reason the other wardens found her unapproachable. Nor was it the spectacular temper he knew she possessed which made teasing her so thrilling (even when it wasn't on display you could see it ominously simmering close to the surface). Sometimes, such as now, her face wore a dark and haunted countenance that he had no idea how to deal with and no interest in prodding at.

Ladies swooned and waved handkerchiefs as the King and the Wardens departed. Emery found the whole scene ridiculous and hoped to escape it as soon as possible. Particularly considering that she could not spot Fergus and thus had little reason to linger. Thankfully Alistair had the same idea and Emery soon found herself following him through the noble's camp.

Although, she thought, "camp" could barely describe it any longer. A market place seem to have sprung up seemingly overnight to support the bustle of demanding customers and as they reached the outskirts of the ruins she noticed and a number of make-shift paddocks had been had been arranged to house horses and ponies. She could even hear the sound of barks and yips close by that suggested there too was a makeshift kennel for hounds.

She'd been surprised when they had left the Ostagar behind them but Alistair had told her that they would enter the Wilds and begin their patrol immediately. They had little need for provisions as they would be returning before nightfall and had armed themselves at camp with the intention of entering the caverns with the other wardens. Emery had heard much about the Korcari Wilds- most of it she was sure were old-wives tales or yarns spun by over-zealous travelers looking for an audience. All she really expected to face was a foul-smelling bog and some nasty mosquitos...


	4. Chapter 4

**Fate is like a strange, unpopular restaurant filled with odd little waiters who bring you things you never asked for and don't always like.**  
― Lemony Snicket

As they drew farther and farther away from Ostagar and the noble's camp Emery found relief lightening her mood. She had not realised the extent to which her inevitable discussion with Fergus was affecting her- whenever she thought of what to say to him an aching lump filled her stomach. She knew that postponing it was only causing her more anxiety but it felt good to get away from camp and the immediacy of her task.

The Wilds were shaping up to be exactly what Emery had suspected- a freezing, dank marshland full of mosquitos and little else. And even though it was the middle of the day and the sun was at its peak, the light seemed dim. So far they had hiked in relative silence for few hours. Alistair seemed to Emery withdrawn, which she suspected was uncharacteristic of him. She tried not to let it bother her, after all she told herself, she cared little for the his wellbeing- unless of course it somehow affected her. But for whatever reason- boredom, or curiosity at his reticence, she began a conversation as they drudged through the thick dark mud,

"How long have you been a Grey Warden?" she asked- it was the first question that came to mind. Alistair stopped walking for a second and then continued to trudge on in silence. For a moment Emery thought he would ignore her query but he answered eventually,

" Only a few months" he said,

" Did you also have to drink darkspawn blood?" she inquired, nose wrinkling at the memory. Alistair was amused,

" Of course. As far as I know it _is_ the only way to become a warden"

" So how'd they get you? Extortion?Blackmail? Or did they just go ahead and spike your ale when you weren't looking?". At this Alistair laughed,

" It might be difficult to believe for someone of your, uh…background? But the life of a warden is an improvement for some- it's also kind of an honour, or at least used to be" he told her. A smile twitched at Emery's lips. He had neatly avoided answering her question- maybe he was craftier than he let on. It was true that all the Wardens, perhaps beside herself, appeared to be skilled warriors. But if it was such an "honour" to be a warden why then did their ranks seem to consist solely of people who had nowhere else to go?

" I heard many stories about the wardens when I was a child" she said, "but I never thought I'd be one. And stories are one thing, of course reality ended up being a lot different". Emery sighed, suddenly feeling deflated.

" Are you embarrassed ?"Alistair asked." to be a warden?" The question was so strange that Emery stopped in her tracks.

" What makes you ask that?" she was sincerely perplexed. Alistair seemed to grow uncomfortable,

" Maybe 'embarrassed' is the wrong word…Okay, perhaps you feel like being a warden is less than what you deserve? No. that just sound worse." he said and his brows knit as he thought, "…Anyway, you seemed on edge in the camp- and you were eager to leave. I just got the feeling like you didn't want to be recognized". Emery ruffled slightly, she wasn't aware she had been under such close scrutiny. If she were to be truthful then maybe, yes, a small part of her might feel like being a warden was beneath her somehow- she was meant to be Teyrna. It might have been beyond logic but she felt as if she had failed somehow. If being a Grey Warden was about doing good and helping people- if that's what mattered…then she could have done a lot more as Teyrna of Highever. Avoiding the camp, though- that was about Fergus and about having to explain to people what had brought her to the Wardens.

" Well its true…" she began stiffly, " about not wanting to be recognized. I'm acquainted with a lot of people there that I'd like to avoid- not because I'm ashamed of being a Warden- rather because the story behind it is…unpleasant". Alistair could have kicked himself, of course this was about her family. He'd brought it up and now probably ruined her good mood. Earlier he'd been too mired in his own worries about Duncan and the others to really notice that Emery was in better spirits than he'd seen her. But for the first time since they had met she'd initiated a conversation and he'd noticed that she seemed less hostile than usual. Now he'd gone and reminded her about her dead family.

He'd first heard of what had happened after his disasterous introduction to her. He had a habit of saying the wrong thing and making a fool of himself but that particular incident had been one for the books. Hhargren had taken him aside afterwards and explained that Duncan had recruited her after her household had been murdered. He felt awful for bringing it up and desperately hoped she would not slip back into her usual dark mood. In an effort to keep the conversation going he grasped desperately at the first thing that came to mind.

" You should wear your helmet" he blurted out, " that is for er, safety and if you don't want to be recognized" he wrapped his knuckles on his own battered helmet, as if to demonstrate his point. This, thought Emery, was a good idea- which was why it had already occurred to her. Unfortunately she'd hit a snag,

" I did think of that but my helmet is ..." Emery trailed off, mumbling the last of the sentence so that the words were lost to Alistair .

" Your helmet is what now?"

"I said my helmet is too small" she admitted reluctantly. It took a second for it to sink in before Alistair started to laugh.

" Too small? Meaning your head is too large…meaning you have a big head"

" How did I know you would react this way?"

" What way? I'm merely stating what you pointed out yourself- You possess a big head. Perhaps we can ask some of your nobleman friends for advice when we get back to camp. I'm sure many of them share in the plight of the big headed. Maybe they can recommend some merchants who sell extra-large helmets.?"

" Oh shut it. Its not my head that's the problem- its my hair. There's too much of it and it gets in the way." She patted her the volumous coils pinned to her head self conciously. After hours of in the marsh they were looking a bit worse for wear. Alistair chose to ignore what she had said and continued.

"Oh! Do you know who would would probably be best to ask? – King Cailan. I reckon his head's huge. Might be the biggest head I've ever come across. You could ask to have one of _his_ old helmets." Okay, perhaps he was taking this too far now. He looked over to her and saw she was flushed with anger but before he could say anything else an unpleasant sensation tickled at the back of his mind before sinking into his stomach.

Emery was on the verge of threatening physical harm if Alistair didn't shut up about her bloody helmet when she noticed he'd stopped dead in his tracks. His whole body tensed and he seemed to be listening for something or waiting. The mood in the air changed swiftly with his next words.

" Draw your weapons" said Alistair evenly, " There are darkspawn close by". She did as she was told and tried to keep her hands from shaking. Her daggers left their scabbards with a a deadly _shhik._ Alistair readied his shield and drew his sword. Emery noticed a change come over him- he was no longer the carefree, slightly awkward man she had been walking with for the past few hours he now seemed cold and resolute. She tried to let it comfort her and gripped her daggers so tightly her palms ached.

A cold unease began to slither up her spine; every inch of her body seemed to be on alert. A terrible restlessness entered her limbs, soaking into her muscles and her vision danced before her with such clarity it made her head ache.

They continued through the Wilds in silence, weapons readied. Bushes and tall reeds which appeared innocuous before now seemed to be potential hiding places for all manner of monsters. Each of her squelchy footfalls seemed to be alarmingly loud and she worried that every creature in the Wilds could deduce their position from the sound of her boots in the mud. Before long she noticed the creeping mist rising, snaking around her ankles and upward until she could no long see where she was placing her steps.

The shadows loomed in the failing light, cold and frightened, she was about to ask Alistair how much longer till they reached camp when a snarl ripped through the air. And suddenly they were under attack. The smell struck her first- it was unlike anything she had experienced before- fetid and rich, layered with decay. It strangled the breath from throat and her stomach roiled in revolt. The nightmare came at her suddenly with a crude blade, its shape was like a man, almost, but its putrid flesh was grey and limp and covered in filth and gore. Its frothing maw was spiked with cruel teeth and something grey and viscous ran freely down its chin. It stared at her with wide, bulbous eyes and she knew there were no thoughts or intention behind the gaze. It was less than a beast; only one thing drove the creature- a kind of raw directionless rage- black and insatiable.

She staggered back and fell beneath the layer of mist, hitting the dark mud. Scrabbling desperately away, she tried both to flee and find sturdy enough ground to stand again. She slipped and crawled through the sludge until she gracelessly found her feet again and stood. The darkspawn was still coming at her, staggering and growling in a manner unlike any animal she'd encountered. She heard her heart beat thump loudly in her ears and time slowed as it drew closer. Though clogged and slippery with mud, by some miracle she still held her daggers- but it was useless. Her mind was wrung dry of every drop of knowledge and training she had ever received. She was frozen.

The darkspawn was only a few feet away by then and it raised its weapon, ready to cut her down- _bam_, Alistair's shield collided with its skull and the creature crumpled to the ground. Fluidly the warden plunged his sword into the mist and the darkspawn died with a hideous rasp.

Emery stood waiting for her hands to stop shaking and to once again gain control of her thoughts. She became dimly aware that Alistair was shouting at her and for once she was too much in shock to be annoyed.

"What _exactly_ were you trying to do? Stare it to death?!" He yelled, although it was edged more with exasperation than anger.

"I-"she began, but stopped. She hadn't been trying to do anything. She'd done nothing.

"Fine. Okay. Let's just keep moving" Alistair said, voice tipped with impatience. He turned and continued on, wiping the dark blood off his sword as he walked. Emery scrabbled after him, careful to step over the three _other _darkspawn corpses Alistair had dispatched. She'd never felt so utterly defeated and useless before. Anxiety gnawed at her gut mercilessly and she had to pinch her eyes shut briefly when a few scant tears that had welled up threatened to spill. Emery realised she had never been _bad _at anything before- never failed. Granted she was beginning see that her life had been significantly easier than she cared to admit to anyone aloud. She imagined Duncan's reaction to what had just occurred and wondered if it was possible to be kicked out the grey wardens- surely it was. It must be some kind of record, though.

* * *

Alistair trudged through the mud and sulked. He felt bad for shouting at her. Then he felt annoyed that he felt bad- he shouldn't feel bad- should he? She'd endangered herself and him. Frankly, he wasn't sure if even _liked_ her- she was grouchy, antisocial and snooty. And now his shoulder hurt where he'd been clipped by one of the darkspawn's knives. Most probably, she even didn't like him either; likely she hated him as much as she did Duncan. Yes, he'd seen the way she glared at the commander when she thought no one was looking. And why not? In a short amount of time the girl had lost everything, including most of her family, and been forced to join the wardens against her will…

Okay, now he just felt worse. He should say something.

Her presence behind him was palpable and he could feel the unease and gloom radiating off her in dim blue waves. It was intolerable that it bothered him so. He cleared his throat.

"We should be getting back to camp soon" Alistair said and then stopped, unsure what else to say.

"Good" Emery replied a little forcefully.

It was decided then, he thought. As soon as Duncan got back he would have a talk with him. Whether it was the recent trauma or simply a lack of training or experience - it was unconscionable to let her continue as is. She should be trained or instructed- or something, He thought.

He was suddenly aware that her footsteps behind him had ceased. He turned to see why she'd stopped-

"Wait- what are you doing?" he exclaimed.

The daggers could have been sharper Emery thought, but sawed through her final plait all the same. She considered her amputated braids briefly before flinging them to the side and into the marshes. They flew through air like black snakes for a moment before landing in the watery sludge with disappointing _plop_.

She jammed her helmet on and gave Alistair a smug sneer,

"See? Perfect fit" she said, enjoying his agog expression. Alistair could find nothing to say in answer and so turned and continued on- more exasperated and perplexed than before.

It hadn't been something she'd planned- like everything else lately. But her recent tumble had caused heavy, thick mud to congeal in her hair. It had made her realise, rather startlingly, that she had no idea how to manage it, or wash it or arrange it by herself. All her life someone had taken care of her.

Well that was over.

She'd escaped the attack on her family. She had lived through the joining ritual. She'd survived almost a whole day with Alistair. If this was to be her life she'd make the most of the chance she was given.

* * *

The ground began to get firmer and surroundings familiar- Emery realised they were drawing closer to camp. The air had grown frigid so that the mud that clung to her felt cold as ice. She was anxious to thaw out in front of a fire and was liable to eat the first morsel of food that entered her sight. Mercifully, through the grey light she made out the paddocks they had exited the camp through earlier.

Alistair was thinking similar thoughts. Wardens did not tire easily but the gloom of the marshland Wilds had eaten away at his strength alarmingly. His shoulder was also beginning to twinge. He hoped that Duncan and the others would see to things in the caverns in a timely manner. Although it was just him and Emery he felt uncomfortable being in charge- likely due to the fact that he had a maddening propensity to say the wrong thing around her. In addition, though, Alistair realised that he'd never been given much responsibility in his life- he'd only been the responsibility of others. He wasn't exactly sure if he approved of the change quite yet. But it mattered little, he thought, Emery would not be his to worry about for much longer. In few days, at the most, Duncan and Airard would return and she would be properly mentored by one of them- he suspected Airard.

The young wardens entered the vicinity of the compound – the scent and sounds of restless mounts drifting toward them.

Out of the gloom a figure appeared, hooded and lithe, as if coalesced from the mist and darkness. It grabbed at Alistair, causing him to cry out.

"Wait- "said Airard, gingerly removing his hood, before Alastair could draw his weapon.

"Airard!" Emery exclaimed as the elf buckled to the floor. Something was wrong. Alistair and Emery rushed to him, all thoughts of warm rest and food gone.

"Listen to me. There isn't much time-" He said. The darkness had robbed the world of colour so that the blood on Airard glinted wet and black.

"What's happened?" asked Alistair in a small voice. Airard grimaced, pain and grief entering every line of his face body,

"I've done a terrible thing. I should never have trusted Loghain- he's betrayed me"

"What have you done? Where's Duncan" asked Alistair, dread had crept into his veins and slivered its way to his heart.

"No" Emery interrupted, "We have to get you to camp. You're bleeding out" she said, voice wavering on the last two words. Her mind flashed back to her father lying in the great hall. There was so much blood. Desperately she clutched at Airard, trying to find the wound.

"Get off me!" he growled viciously, and pushed her away causing her to stumble backwards onto the ground "I'm finished- and glad of it."

"_Where is Duncan_?" Alistair repeated, shouting suddenly, anger and desperation creeping into his voice. Airard's answer was rasped out of a throat clogged with blood and grief.

"The King is dead- Duncan and the others too. I am to blame. It was Loghain, who did it, but I'm to blame-"his own choking sob interrupted his words and suddenly the world had been set of kilter. Disbelief and anger raced through Alistair.

"No." He said, grabbing Airard's shoulders and shaking him, "Where are the others?"

"Loghain and his men…killed them"

"What do you mean? What's happened?" Emery said urgently, scarcely believing Airard herself, Alistair was struck speechless with denial and anger. The elf lay on the ground, fading away. Emery and Alistair leant over him, white faced and fearful.

"It only...only was meant to be Cailan- only Cailan" he said weakly, his speech beginning to slur. Emery reeled in horror at the implication of his words- an assassination, a coup. Worst of all the wardens were involved.

"Duncan didn't know" Airard confessed, "he wasn't involved" The dying elf looked at Alastair and Emery who had grown still as stone." Listen…go to The Circle. They'll be after you. The mages know the truth- I've sent word. Find Levreth- he wasn't in the caverns. Duncan sent him with your brother- to watch over him. Find him. He has friends in the Circle- go there. You must go there!" he cried, grabbing Emery hysterically. Alistair face was set in a blank, hollow-eyed expression. He seemed unmoved by Airard's words. He got up slowly and turned his back on the dying warden without a word, retreating out of earshot with a leaden gait.

Airard watched him go with an expression of such sadness and remorse Emery felt sick with pity.

"He's right" Airard said, breathes coming short and fast." Leave me here. If-if Levreth…If you cannot find him go to Redcliffe. Trust only the Arl". His lungs and airways wheezed sickeningly as breathed. Airard's eyes began to droop unnaturally.

Abruptly he grabbed Emery and pulled her closer. Startled, she cried out and try to unsuccessfully wrench free of his cold metal grip. He looked at Emery straight in the eye- gaze piercing. Lucid and calm he said finally,

"Don't let him die. _Do not_ let Alistair die". She nodded fervently and then he was gone. Emery scrabbled back in fright and grief.

"Alistair" she said desperately, "Alistair- he's... Maker, I'm so sorry. He's g-gone"

The warden's back was to her-stiff, and unmoving, his hands clenched at his side.

"There are soldiers coming" he said in a dead voice. True enough she heard the shouts of a search party up ahead. Terror overtook Emery as she understood. 'They'll be after you' was what Airard had told them. Loghain had double-crossed the Wardens.

"Alistair" She yelled forcefully, trying to get his attention "We're leaving- now. Get a horse; take any supplies you can find. Alistair!" She walked over and physically shook him. "Snap out of it. I'm _not leaving without you_". His vision seemed to clear and he let out a shaky sigh,

"We can't go north from here"

"I know" She said as they hurried to find mounts. Emery located the mare Duncan had given her and it whickered softly as she approached. "We'll head into the Wilds then circle back around- avoiding the road"

"We can't take horses into the marshes"

"We can, and we will" she said simply.

* * *

The night was deep around them as they led their horses. The going was slow as Emery was careful to pick out sturdy path with only the moon to light the way. The map Duncan had given them only showed the areas surrounding the Wilds- it eventually became useless. They hiked through the night in absolute silence. Neither of them was willing to call their sad procession to a halt- it would mean having to nothing else to concentrate on besides the events of that day.

Emery was at a loss- the past month had been one nightmare after the other- beginning with the murder of her family. She felt cursed- tragedy followed in her footsteps it seemed. She hadn't like Duncan and had barely known Airard and the other wardens but all the same they were meant to become her comrades and family- she'd been robbed again. It was strange- illuminating, wretched, heart-breaking, and in a sick way, comforting to see her grief echoed in another. Alistair had not said a word since they'd departed from Ostagar.

He'd walked behind her the whole night leading the non-descript bay they'd stolen. She'd been on high alert the whole time- terrified that they would be attacked by darkspawn again. However as they drew further and further away from Ostagar she felt something in her chest loosed- a tightness or knot she hadn't even realised was there until it wasn't. She'd heard stories, of course, of the Warden's ability to sense darkspawn and she was suddenly struck by the finality of it- she was a warden. And perhaps the strange settling of her nerves was due to them leaving the darkspawn caverns behind.

Still, although she could not see very well in the moonlight, she could feel under her feet the landscape changing. The ground seemed sturdier, strangely and the plants had become thicker and more fragrant. They had wandered deep into the Wilds.

The sky began to grow lighter and Emery finally conceded that they should stop and rest. They encountered a grove of tall bushes and she could make out a large pond a few metres away. Emery deemed it worthy.

"We're stopping" she told Alistair, not expecting a response.

"I'll take first watch" he said, his voice scratchy and thick. Emery's heart lurched. She knew that she lacked any ability to comfort him. It was worse that she had some idea what he was feeling- her grief was still fresh. She decided for the moment to leave him be and rest.

It felt as if she could sleep for days but knew it would not be possible. She might have laughed if the situation were not so grim- it seemed that tired, footsore and covered in mud had become for her the perpetual state of being since beginning her acquaintance with the Wardens. In the month that had passed since leaving Highever she could scarcely recognise herself any longer- inside and out. And somehow, she'd gotten involved in something much larger than anything she could have imagined.

If Cailan truly was dead at the hands of Loghain and Airard- new recruit or not- the honour of the wardens was now part of her responsibility. She knew that, if only for the sake of her own life, she would have to find a way to absolve them of the deed. Truly she did not think Duncan had a part in it neither Alistair and the other.

Loghain on the other hand was easy enough to see through. His daughter, now Cailan's widow would be the sole ruler of Ferelden. There were no heirs to the Calenhad line so it seemed it plausible to consider it falling to Loghain's bloodline instead. He was the 'Hero of Dane' after all, the man who had secured Ferelden's independence from foreign rule.

Emery's mind drifted back to her sunlit afternoon lessons at Highever with Aldous. Although remembering he had died during the attack cause her heart to twist with grief she too remembered how when she had been young he had teased her with 'big' words which she was told 'look up later on'-until the day she no longer needed to and had responded to him in turn. Aldous had taught her the history of Ferelden and her own family's history. She'd grown up with the stories of Maric and Loghain – closer than brothers and devoted to the betterment of their country and its people.

With those memories, curled up on the driest, flattest piece of earth she could find Emery fell into a fitful slumber.

* * *

**A/N: As of 12 September, the previous chapters have been revamped.**

As you can see the plot is finally coming in. Please review and tell me what you think!


	5. Chapter 5

CROWD: A witch! A witch! A witch! We've got a witch! A witch!

VILLAGER #1: We have found a witch, may we burn her?

CROWD: Burn her! Burn her!

BEDEVERE: How do you know she is a witch?

VILLAGER #2: She looks like one.

**Monty Python and The Holy Grail (1975)**

Emery awoke to dim grey light, stiff and aching. Alastair sat on a rock close-by, staring at the ground, consumed with his own thoughts.

"How long was I out" asked Emery groggily.

"A few hours- its mid-morning hard to tell with this light, though" his voice was bland and even.

"What? Mid-morning?" she began annoyed, but then clamped her mouth shut. He hadn't woken her for her turn on watch and they would have to move on soon – without him having gotten any rest. "stay here, and start a fire- I'm going to see if I can find anything to eat" She said, getting up and Alistair nodded mutely. She grabbed her pack and set off trying unsuccessfully not to notice that his eyes were red and his face blotchy. Whilst she'd been asleep he'd been crying, and right then she almost stopped to offer him some bumbling, pathetic, and undoubtedly unhelpful condolence, but caught herself at the last second.

Alistair watched her go. He wasn't surprise she was avoiding his company- he'd been in a daze since they left Ostagar. It just seemed unreal that things could so wrong so quickly. Slowly during the past few hours he'd found himself wishing that he'd been with the other in the caverns. Whether he could have changed the outcome of the battle was debatable but at least then, he thought to himself, he would not be in the directionless, lost state he was in. And ever since leaving he'd tried to avoid thinking of Airard but it was almost impossible. The elf had been like and older brother to him and Alistair had always thought that they understood one another but somehow, somewhere he'd missed something. Airard was more complicated than he had appeared to be- he would not have done what he'd done without a reason, surely. Alistair tried, he really did- he tried to hate Airard, to blame him, but more than anything he was shocked and confused.

The fire crackled merrily once he was done. Although it was day-time, due to the dim light he worried that a it may draw attention to them. He had chosen the driest fuel he could find- not an easy task in the wilds. But dangerous or not he found that the flames at least lightened his mood a fraction. Physically, he was in a miserable state, he hadn't eaten since breakfast the previous day and found his stamina wavering. He was bone-weary and his boots were heavy with the accumulated mud of their hike through the wilderness. Although it might not have been a good idea to let Emery rest through her shift he knew that even if he tried, sleep would not come to him.

The question, of course, was what they were going to do now. _They _thought he. How strange that he'd only met Emery a few days earlier- it seemed longer. It struck him then how easy it would be for her to leave- she may have gone through the Joining but she was still barely a warden and barely involved in all this. In fact he was hardly much of a warden himself. What he did know, however, was that Emery had taken charge at a vital moment and forced him to action despite him having been perfectly content to be captured by Loghain's soldiers.

As if summoned by his thoughts he heard the now familiar footsteps of his companion and realized just how long he'd been staring listlessly into the fire. Emery kicked a flat rock close to the flames and sat down unceremoniously, laying down two of the biggest rats Alistair had ever seen upon it. She offered an explanation unasked,

"I saw some of them yesterday- they live in the reeds. Not quite rabbit- but almost there" she said holding up one by its thick wormy tail before depositing it back and taking out her knife. Alistair watched as she skinned and gutted the rodents with practiced ease and wondered uncomfortably at the conundrum that was the ex-lady of Highever.

"Now" she said, gesturing with her knife as she talked, unfazed by her bloody fingers, "the deal is; I caught them so you cook them"

A ghost of a smile shivered frail on Alistair face when he spoke, "You don't know what you're asking. I am possibly _the_ worst cook in all of Thedas". Emery smiled,

"Trust me, I already have low expectations" she said and Alistair didn't know whether to laugh or feel insulted but complied nonetheless- it was her funeral.

Emery looked on as Alistair cooked the rodents on crude spits. 'Worst cook in all of Thedas' he may be, Emery felt as if she would eat almost anything. Truthfully she'd never been so hungry in all her life. She watched the fat sizzle and drip off meat and could feel herself practically drooling.

"How did you even catch these?" asked Alistair, interrupting her carnivorous reverie. In reply she held up the small hunting bow she scavenged before they had fled Ostagar- one of the few items of use she had found. The bow was rude but springy and serviceable enough. Alistair looked confused for a moment,

"Why didn't you ask for a bow instead of your daggers then?" he questioned her, not trusting himself to speak the names Airard or Duncan yet. Emery shrugged, unashamedly

"Honestly, I've never been much good with a _proper_ bow- I'm too small and don't have the strength. The knights back home gave me daggers when they taught me- said that I could use my size as an advantage". Alistair considered her properly for the first time and noticing how lithe and tiny she actually was.

"You were instructed how to fight?" he asked, intrigued, but Emery grimaced slightly as if embarrassed.

"Hard to tell given my performance yesterday" she said grudgingly and the darkspawn battle in the Wilds filtered back to Alistair, feeling as if it was years ago.

"What you lack is experience" he said, attempting at reassurance" Even so, I've heard of veterans who soiled their drawers and ran for their mother's at their first darkspawn encounter" Emery giggled genteelly behind her hand at this and afterward an awkward silence stretched between them. Alistair wondered why he felt obliged to be so nice to the prissy warden before handing Emery her meal. However the notion of her being 'prissy' abruptly came to an end as he watched her wolf down the rat-on-a-spit despite it being charred black and finding, after taking a bite of his own, that it tasted suspiciously like swamp water.

They were soon picking the bones clean and Alistair allowed himself a secretive smile at the fact that Emery probably didn't know that among the changes that had been wrought by the Joining was an increase in appetite. Not wanting to get into the conversation he instead prodded her for information on her past, finding that conversation took his mind off the events of the past few days.

"Honestly" he told her, "I'm not sure I've ever heard of a _lady_ being in favour of killing small, furry woodland creatures- let alone being capable of doing it herself"

"Perhaps not" she said smiling sadly and remembering her faraway home, "the lands south-east of the castle were wild brush and forests- I was taught to hunt there"

"Duncan told me he was from Highever" said Alistair quietly, mostly to himself, and saw surprise momentarily distort her features. A long, quiet moment passed before Emery spoke,

"I'm sorry about what happened to Duncan. I-"

"Don't" interrupted Alistair, "Just... You don't have to say anything. I know you…didn't care for him" he finished uncomfortably

"That doesn't mean he deserved to die" Emery said, whisper-quiet, and to her profound relief found that she meant it.

The moment was interrupted by an obtrusive rustle in a near-by bush, and in a split second they were up.

"What was that?" asked Alistair, drawing his sword.

"A wolf maybe- must have been brought here by the smell" Emery said, gesturing to neat pile of bones left from their meal.

"Wolf?" said a sly voice, and they both spun around, "Tis' surprisingly close to the mark". The woman before them was clad in an outfit unlike anything Emery had ever seen, whether it was more impractical or scandalous would make for a close debate. The stranger had milky white skin, raven hair and startling gold eyes- it was a cold, otherworldly kind of beauty that made Emery immediately feel shabby and homespun.

"Who are you?" asked Emery, trying to keep her voice even

"'Who', right now, is perhaps less important than 'what', and _what_ I am is a friend- or could be" the stranger said cryptically.

"Don't listen to her" said Alistair to Emery, "What she is, is a _witch_"

"I know a little about a lot of things, including magic - if that's what you mean" said the woman, "for example- I know that you are both Grey Wardens desperate to get to The Circle of Magi"

"You've been spying on us" said Emery suddenly

"For quite some time actually. But before you attempt to run me through- I have a proposal-"

"We're not interested" said Alistair, interrupting her. The witch just gave a him a caustic smile and continued,

"I will guide you safely through the Wilds – by the secret ways only I know. I promise that no harm will come to you from me or any other creature here. All I ask is one favour"

"Of course there's a catch- there's always a catch" said Emery, a wry but tired smile on her face," What is this 'favour' "

"You can't be considering this" said Alistair, horrified, "you don't even know if she's telling the truth". But his words were ignored- the conversation seemed to be occurring only between Emery and the witch.

"Tis' a small thing I ask. But even so- this is an offer you cannot afford to refuse. You are being hunted. Without me you will either be lost forever in the marshlands or die at the hands of your pursuers"

"Spit it out then, "said Emery tiredly, "What do you want". A barely perceptible smile of triumph graced her fine lips.

"I will not set foot in the Circle, myself. But they have something I want. Retrieve it for me and our debt will be settled". Alistair, who had grown angry then spoke,

"If you think we're stealing some dangerous magical artifact for you then you are truly insane". At his words Emery looked hesitant, it was true that they needed a guide but if the woman was a witch- and an apostate at that, giving her something from the Circle could have dire consequences.

"Tis' not what you think" said the witch, annoyed , " A book is all that it is- And tis' _not_ stealing for it belonged first to my mother. It should have passed to me, but they are the thieves!" Emery's thoughts spun through what the woman was proposing. They needed a guide _now_ but she was only asking for them to repay the debt when they reached the Circle. That was miles away and gave them plenty of time to decide whether or not to go through with it. Not exactly an honorable thing to do, she thought- but possibly necessary. If the book, no doubt a spell-book of some kind (Emery was not deceived by its vague description), truly did belong to the woman's family then she would consider helping her retrieve it. She had no love for the institution of the Circle of Magi either. The only danger that remained was whether the woman was telling the truth on whether she could guide them through the Wilds.

"We have no guarantee that you will guide us safely- or in fact that you mean us no harm" said Emery. But the witch smiled haughtily knowing she had won.

"If I had wanted to kill you I would have done so hours ago- whilst you were sleeping and your friend blubbering. As for my abilities as a guide- even if I were lying you would be in no different circumstances than you are now. That is, lost." Finally, with a wide, victorious smile she turned to Alistair, speaking to him directly for the first time, "And as for a guarantee of safety- You are it. A warden, you may be but you stink like a Templar. One thought from you and I would be powerless"

"Don't tempt me, apostate" said Alistair darkly

"You're a Templar!" said Emery, a bit shrilly. Realizing she knew close to nothing about her fellow warden. Alistair looked sheepish,

"I was going to be- I trained for it…but I never took my final vows"

"Tis' settled then" said the witch decisively. Cutting short any further conversation on the matter

"What should we call you?" asked Emery, suddenly somber, attempting to ignore the sudden epiphany regarding her companion's past.

"I am Morrigan, you are Emery and that" she said regarding Alistair distastefully, "…is Alistair." Morrigan then looked closely at her, the swamp witch's golden eyes seemed lit unnaturally, and said ominously "Renege on our deal, Emery Cousland, and I will see that you soon after meet an end both horrible and painful" …

And it was with those words ringing in her ears that Emery struck an accord with the witch called Morrigan, allowing the strange woman to guide them out of the marshlands and closer to her brother, Levreth and the Circle of Magi.

* * *

**Short, sorry! I had to end it there- sort of the end of part 1. We'll be out of the Wilds in the next chapter! Hooray! I'm a bit proud of this chapter and the unfolding chemistry between the all characters- let me know what you think? I've accepted that Alistair will be slightly OC in this due to the fact that he doesn't know about Maric and thus…blah blah blah (will be revealed later)**

**PLEASE REVIEW! Seriously reviews are like writer's crack.**


	6. Chapter 6

**"Heroes only come in three kinds:dead, damaged or dubious."**

**―** Gregory David Roberts, _Shantaram_

Their trip out of the Wilds took just over a week. Even so, that was only an estimation- the deeper they went the more peculiar the light causing the days and nights to blur together. Emery, who before meeting Duncan, had never really travelled anywhere besides Denerim, found herself entranced by the strange land. Civilisation had not yet stamped its mark on the place. She had never been anywhere so raw and as its name suggested, so _wild_. More than that the land felt old and all the time she felt as if she were being watched by a presence that seemed to exist in the plants, stones and the very soil. Travelling with the witch Morrigan didn't help matters. The woman was as mysterious as she was rude although fortunately the majority of her snipes seemed directed at Alistair. What little Emery had extrapolated regarding the witch's past suggested that Morrigan had lived her whole life deep in the Wilds… which caused her to wonder how exactly someone so cut off from people and society could have developed such a spectacular capacity for sarcasm.

" Where are we?" asked Alistair unexpectedly from behind her.

" Decided to rejoin us, I see. Falling on your blade in grief seemed like too much trouble, I take it?" Morrigan said icily from the head of the party. Alistair retorted with a sharp glare and a series of rude gestured aimed at the back of the witch's head.

" I believe we're close to exiting the Wilds" Emery offered when it seemed that Morrigan would not answer the question. Alistair halted behind her, causing his horse to draw to a halt too.

" What is it?" asked Emery turning to him he shrugged.

" I'm just surprised" he said" I thought it'd take longer" Emery quirked an eyebrow.

" I guess we're lucky to have Morrigan with us" she proposed lightly, watching Alistair out the corner of her eye. He snorted.

" That remains to be seen," he said testily. Emery held back a sigh of frustrations and continued walking. Their bickering had been amusing at first but was now starting to grate on her nerves. The only upside that remained from it was that Morrigan's snide comments never failed to wrench Alistair out of his grief.

* * *

They continued on in silence until the sun begun to set over the horizon. Emery had fallen into a sort of trance whilst walking courtesy of the _clop, clop _of her horse's hooves and the its warm breath on her shoulder. It'd seemed like a good idea at the time, taking along horses, but that was before they had picked up Morrigan. Now that they were no longer in the marshes riding would have been a good idea save that she was not quite sure what the witch would do. She had briefly considered Morrigan and herself sharing a horse but something about the woman screamed boundaries. Violating her personal space was likely an invitation for trouble.

" We should make camp soon" announced Emery, noticing the failing light.

" Very well," said Morrigan, who suddenly changed directions and headed for the cover brush and wilderness.

" Wait, " said Emery. This is what always happened- Morrigan would disappear into thin air the moment they stopped to camp. The first time had been the most alarming, Emery had turned away for a second and the witch had gone. The whole night she'd debated whether they'd been had on, led deeper into the Wilds and left to its mercy as a trick. But come first light Morrigan had re-appeared. And so that's how it went. During their journey she never saw Morrigan sleep or eat- she refused anything Emery offered her. Instead she only seemed to be around when they needed her.

" I wanted to ask you how close we are to a town" said Emery wrenching free from her thoughts

" I know a town not far from here. We can make it there before sundown tomorrow" Morrigan offered.

" Hold on" Alistair interejected, " I thought the point was to _avoid_ being captured. A town this close to the Wilds?- Do you honestly think there's even the slightest chance Loghain and his men aren't watching it?". Emery sighed.

" They probably are. But we need supplies- and news. Hopefully it will be worth the risk." Alistair grudgingly agreed on this point. Whilst supplies were not his concern- he seemed to be doing fine on the odd game Emery found- he did wish to know more about their predicament and what Loghain was claiming to have occurred at Ostagar. So much was still unknown to them- such as why Airard and Loghain had conspired to kill the king in the first place. Although he'd begun to develop a few theories, there were still pieces missing.

There was also the possibility that Levreth and Fergus had passed through there. He and Emery hadn't spoken much about her brother and the mage. Perhaps neither of them wished to tempt fate by speculating on their condition or whether they'd managed to evade Loghain's agents. It seemed too much to hope that they would arrive at the Circle unscathed. He and Emery had certainly had their fair share of troubles. In his opinion, their 'trouble' was predominantly in the form of one swamp witch with a superiority complex and bad fashion sense.

He noticed abruptly that Morrigan and Emery were having their own conversation and Emery was showing the witch a wilted-looking plant she had dug up.

"What's that" he asked, pointing to the plant.

" Tis' nothing that concerns you" answered Morrigan turning her nose up. Emery rolled her eyes, sensing another argument,

" It's a plant for making salves" she explained, " Morrigan's agreed to help me gather some so that we have something to trade tomorrow…since we have no money"

" Right. Hadn't thought of that"

" I am not surprised. No doubt you were too busy moping about like a jilted milk-maid" Said Morrigan, not one to miss an opening to insult Alistair

" Will both of you just pack it in" Emery sighed tiredly which to her surprise seem to silence them. Alistair stood nervously for a second fidgeting,

" Is there anything else you need in order to make…whatever it is your making?" he asked.

" Thanks but have everything I need" Emery said before beginning to unpack her laden horse, " It's a simple recipe"

" Did you learn it from your mother?" Alistair blurted out and immediately regretted his words. The mention of her family was a unsurprisingly guaranteed to darken Emery's mood.

" No, from the keep's huntswoman. Teyrna haven't a need to know such things, really" she said, her back to him. Morrigan who was about to leave stopped and pivoted.

" Your parents are Teyrn and Teyrna?" she asked, intrigued " I'd assumed you were not directly related to the main line". Emery turned and shook her head. " Might you be the eldest too?" Morrigan prodded further, her eyes gleaming at the newly discovered information.

" Yes" answered Emery simply, " Although I gave up any claims to Highever when I joined the wardens. My brother will be Teyrn now" she said, her voice wavering slightly as if she was unsure whether it would even come to pass. It betrayed her feelings, Alistair thought. Although she hadn't mentioned it he knew now that she suspected her brother would not make it to Kinloch Hold.

" How curious" said Morrigan before turning from them and disappearing into the thick of the brush and failing light. Alistair stared at the spot she'd been occupying,

" _How curious…"_ he mocked, making a face and putting on a shrill voice that in reality sounded nothing like the witch. Emery giggled, causing him to turn and face her.

" So…" he said, " A huntswoman from the keep? Finally the mystery is revealed. I've been wondering how you came to be so outdoorsy". Emery shrugged,

" I didn't really leave Highever growing up. While my friends went to parties in Denerim I was stuck at home- had to find something to pass the time so Fior took me out into the forests and I picked up a few things"

" What?- you couldn't embroider a hanky like a normal heiress?". Alistair asked and Emery laughed lightly

" I guess my parents let me get away with a lot in a certain kind of way- although I wasn't allowed to leave Highever much until recently" Emery stated. This piqued Alistair curiosity but any queries were allayed by Emery, " Ugh, " she said, " I'm tired of talking about myself. Besides, you could always tell me the story behind you _almost_ becoming a Templar"

" Wait, let's back track- you _don't_ like talking about yourself? Are you sure nobility?"

" You're deflecting- as usual" said Emery through a smile. Alistair was caught off guard but before he could defend himself Emery raised her hand in good-natured defeat, " Don't worry, I won't press you for details" she said, " Although you should know that you're not nearly broody enough to pull off 'mysterious' ". Alistair sensed the conversation had come disappointingly to an end. Whilst Morrigan's comments always seemed sharp and cruel, he found that being teased by Emery left him in a lighter mood.

* * *

What little that remained of the day wound down slowly as they made camp. Thick darkness blanketed the land by the time they found themselves in front of the fire finishing off the latest of Emery's kills. Thankfully the night passed uneventfully. Emery took the second shift, the familiar rhythm of Alistair's breathing and the chirp of crickets were the only sounds that the night offered. Since leaving Ostagar every movement and thought of hers had been tinged with desperation and impatience. Finally she had felt some of it lessen with Morrigan's revelation that they were close to a town and civilization. They were making progress, covering distance, which meant they were getting closer to the circle. Tomorrow she would try and find a cheap map.

Not knowing what had befallen Fergus was the worst. It tormented her that she hadn't told him about Highever and the death of their parents. She wondered how long it would be until he learnt it from some other, less sympathetic, source. That is if he was even still alive. She closed her eyes and willed it to be so.

She and Fergus had rarely seen eye-to-eye. It seemed that they had coveted each other's circumstances from a young age. Emery felt as if she were constantly being watched and monitored by everyone attempting to shelter her for the good of Highever. Fergus, she thought, had the freedom to go where ever he liked and choose his life's path. But she could understand that it might appear to him as if their parents paid her more attention and were more involved in her life and upbringing. Whatever their differences he was still her little brother and she felt like a failure for not being able to properly protect him web from events that they had both become entangled in.

But despite everything that had happened she found that her ire toward the Grey Wardens had lessened. She especially couldn't blame Alistair for what had come to pass and it was difficult to judge even Airard with his motives still being a mystery. She wondered if she would have felt differently if she hadn't met Cailan before her Joining. True, he hadn't seemed like an evil person but she still felt her faith in the monarchy lessened by him.

Dawn soon broke and Emery began to pack up camp. She nudged Alistair's shoulder with her boot until he grumbled awake. It was encouraging that he was sleeping better following Ostagar. His mood had definitely also improved but Emery knew that his grief ran deep. His facade of jocularity and light-heartedness did nothing to dissuade her from treading carefully around him.

They were soon ready to leave camp when Morrigan re-appeared. She said little to them- small niceties such 'good morning' not really being her strong suit. Instead they immediately got underway with their journey,

" What's this town called, anyway?" Emery asked Morrigan,

" Lothering" was all she offered back.

* * *

**Sorry for the long wait and short chapter. Next time we get to see Lothering sans-blight…. And some familiar faces! Anyone wanna speculate? ( hint hint- it's a no-blight fic)**

**Also, I apologize for all the errors in the earlier chapters- i hadn't realised there were so many until I read them recently. I need a beta... How do I go about that?**

**REVIEW! Seriously. I would absolutely love some opinions on how things are going and if you are a new reader drop a line and say hi**  
**Reviews skyrocket my motivation for writing this story and I've probably read the ones I already have over a dozen times. So…please take some time if you can.**


	7. Chapter 7

**"It is not our part to master all the tides of the world, but to do what is in us for the succour of those years wherein we are set, uprooting the evil in the fields that we know, so that those who live after may have clean earth to till. What weather they shall have is not ours to rule." **  
― J.R.R Tolkien,_ The Lord of the Rings_

* * *

Morrigan watched Emery and Alistair leave before shifting to a raven and flapping into the air. The town of Lothering furled out before her beady eye. Their journey passage through the Wilds was ended and that morning they'd came upon their destination. She'd refused to accompany her companions into town, Emery showed a distinct lack of surprise at this and Alistair had let out a breath of relief. But whilst the witch would not be with them personally she resolved to at least keep her eye on the wardens through other means. Emery and Alistair had decided to split up and enter town separately in an attempt to avoid too much attention. Morrigan wondered if it would work. Emery seemed to have everything mostly well in-hand but there was still a possibility that she would have to spring them from Loghain, or his men's custody.

The thought did not lighten her mood and further soured her already negative outlook on her situation and the need to rely on the two wardens to achieve her ends. The revelation that Emery was in fact the heir to Highever, or had been until recently, had disturbed her more than she'd liked. No doubt the situation would wrench a chortle from her mother had she been present- something which Morrigan found the opposite of comforting. She wondered how much Flemeth knew. Emery and Alistair in their ignorance did not realize that Morrigan had been as eager to leave the Wilds as they were. Everywhere she'd sensed Flemeth's influence; she felt her nearby as if she were a dark and solid presence. Blessedly Morrigan felt free of this sensation the closer she drew to the mundane town of Lothering.

The wind gusted beneath wings, buoying her effortlessly for a time before she dove down toward the tiny specks and buildings . The morning sun beat down on her feathers as she fluttered comfortably to rest on a signpost in the middle of town and with a small amount of panic she realized that there were a lot of Templars in Lothering. They're glinting armor was unmistakable amidst the bustling market place. On reflex she puffed out her feathers and shook her head, showing her discomfort. Morrigan scanned the crowd and spied Emery haggling with a vendor. Alistair was close-by, attempting, and failing, to appear casual by halfheartedly browsing the wares of an enthusiastic dwarf. He kept sliding his glance toward Emery as if to avoid losing sight of her. If he wasn't careful he would attract suspicion and reveal their rouse. If the two wardens got captured Morrigan idly toyed with the notion of leaving him behind. Emery would never go for it she decided quickly.

* * *

Meanwhile Emery realized she was getting nowhere with the old shopkeeper in front of her. Even with so little to trade, getting supplies for the journey was more difficult than she had anticipated. She let out an exasperated sigh and was about to leave before she felt a hand on her elbow.

" Excuse me, stranger" the woman said with a lilting Orlesian accent, " but you should follow me". She was dressed as a Chantry sister and had short red hair and bright eyes. She cracked a pretty smile at Emery but still held her arm in a grip that was gentle but firm.

" Uh, what?" Emery said intelligently.

" You should come with me. Your friend is not so unusual but a woman dressed and armed as you are will be noticed" The sister said quietly. Emery realized that she had picked up on not only Alistair's frustrating inability to blend in, but also a problem that she herself had not anticipated. Female warriors and fighters in Fereldan were not uncommon per say but perhaps in a town like small town like Lothering her garb would attract attention.

" Don't worry" said the sister patiently as she begun steering Emery away from the market stall, " I will not turn you in". Emery wasn't exactly inclined to believe her but whatever this sister wanted Emery realized her cover had been blown. Upon entering Lothering it had become apparent that something was afoot in the small town. There were far too many Templars. The place felt on a knife-edge and making a scene could possible place her in a worse position. Escaping the custody of one defenseless chantry sister seemed better than escaping the custody of a dozen templars.

Somehow she didn't think the Templar order were working for Loghain, though. Something else was stirring in Lothering and whatever it was could provide the perfect distraction for she and Alistair to pass through unnoticed. Granted of course that she could escape the custody of this woman. They began to leave behind the throng of people and she turned back for a second to see Alistair slightly stricken at her exit. She made her best attempt at a gesture that intoned "stay the hell back, I'm fine" but wasn't certain if it was understood.

Emery found herself being led expertly through a winding series of alleys and in-between buildings until they arrived at the Chantry. They had made almost a complete circle through the town and were now facing what appeared to be the kitchens and living quarters behind the main structure.

"So you really are a Chantry sister?" Emery said cautiously. The woman brightened

" Of course, but you were being followed so we could not just walk in the front entrance, non?"

" I was being followed?"

"As I said, a woman of you appearance attracts attention. You are lucky I found you". Emery self-conciously adjusted her helmet before speaking,

" And who exactly are you?"

" My name is Leliana, I'm an initiate here. I'm guessing you are one of the soldiers fleeing Ostagar. It was Teyrn Loghain's men who were after you". Emery first experienced a jolt of panic and then a cursed her own ineptitude. She thought on the woman- Leliana's- words for a second, it seemed that although the sister had guessed more than she had expected the full truth was still not apparent to her. Allowing her status as Warden to remain obscure seemed like a good idea for now.

"Yes" she agreed quickly. Leliana watched her out the corner of her eye as she led her through the Chantry kitchens.

" We have been hearing news of what occurred there. They say that the King was murdered by the Grey Wardens and that his guard are scattered"

" Is that so?" said Emery tightly,

"All of it is apparently owe to a conspiracy on the part of Highever to steal the thro-" the air in Emery's lungs was promptly expelled in a choking gush,

" What?" she said, "that seems...unlikely" she finished, trying to calm down. Leliana shrugged as they came to a closed door and halted,

"Well," she began, as if to herself, " The King's rule was unstable after five years of marriage without producing an heir and now with him in talks with the Dalish, perhaps they thought it time to strike, non?"

"That doesn't mean anything. There is always trouble with the Dalish" She said, the latter part of her statement she recognized as an adage favoured by the noble class whenever elvish affairs entered polite conversation. Leliana took no notice and opened a set of doors she had led them to.

" These are the women's wash rooms" she announced, " You can find some fresh robes over there- if you do not mind being dressed as a Chantry sister. Although I suspect the disguise may work in your favour"

" Thank- you" said Emery hesitantly, not quite sure if she could trust the woman yet.

" Well" said Leliana, brushing off imaginary debris from her robes and turning toward the exit, " I get the feeling you would like to take your time. You can stay here as long as you need but something tells me you will be wanting to leave in the morning"

" -Wait" Emery said, interrupting Leliana's path to the door, " Why are you helping me?" Leliana to a second to formulate a reply.

" The men Loghain has stationed here do not seem the honourable sort. They are looking for anyone who might know the whereabouts of the wardens who survived at Ostagar." Emery felt the blood drain from her face.

" I don't know anything about that" she lied in a quiet voice.

" That is what I thought. When I saw you in the market, you and your friend just looked like people only wanting to return home"

Emery nodded slowly to this before Leliana exited the room shutting the door quietly behind her.

* * *

Alistair was doing his best to curb the nervous impulse to run his hands through his hair while he thought of the best way to respond to Emery disappearing into thin air with an unknown Chantry sister. They had agreed to meet on the road at first light tomorrow should they be unable to find each other sooner and the look she gave him before she disappeared told him to stay put but...it had been a few hours now, the sun was setting and the market was closing.

Perhaps he should just go to the Chantry, he thought. He knew they were suppose to be incognito or whatever but subterfuge was decidedly not his strong suit. And it was possible Emery was in trouble. Although it was also possible he was just paranoid- specifically that something would happen to his fellow warden and he'd be forced to travel alone with Morrigan to the Circle. Which would not end well...Probably, Okay- definitely. And also Emery was the closest thing to a friend he had right now and might have arguably saved him at Ostagar.

He thought back to the look she had given him earlier and a noise of frustration escaped him. Perhaps she'd actually been trying to signal that she was in fact in trouble. How was he suppose to know?

If only the Chanter behind him would shut the hell up and then maybe he could actually think straight. For last few minutes he seemed to be repeating the same verse over again...and it may have only been his imagination but Alistair swore he was increasing in volume very soon he would be shouting-

" And he who stands divided from allies,  
heed these words; the night is dark and full foes  
but do not fear because the Maker is by your side...  
and also your, um, allies okay and will meet you again at the appointed place and time"

" Now wait just a minute" Alistair interrupted, " That last bit is so not in the Chant of Light...Oh.". Alistair saw the Chanter roll his eyes impressively before rather obviously dropping a crumpled piece of parchment on the muddy ground and coughing suspiciously before turning to walk away in the direction of the Chantry.

Alistair looked around to see if any people remaining in the dying market place had caught their exchange but everyone seemed to politely ignore the Chanter in the same manner they would ignore an insane person or someone who had just done something terribly embarrassing in public.

Alistair did his best to surreptitiously recover the parchment from the ground and ducked behind an up-ended cart to read it. Uncrumpled, it revealed a neat script that read,

_**Staying at the Chantry tonight. I'm fine. We'll meet in the morning at the place we agreed.**_

_**Stay out of trouble.**_

_**- E**_

_**P.S If what we found in the Wilds turns up, keep it out of town. Too many of your friends about.**_

It took him a second to finish reading and he decided just as quickly that the last part of the note was as much a warning to keep Morrigan away from the Templars, as it was a way to prove the note was not a forgery. Alistair breathed a little easier. The question now was what he would do until he and Emery re-grouped. The sun was dying and the market place was almost empty now. Earlier that day, after Emery had disappeared he'd sold the horse he'd taken from Ostagar. He and Emery had agreed that since there were three in their party the only needed one horse to carry their supplies and equipment. They could not conceivably afford another for Morrigan to ride and he doubted whether they would find one that would bear her. The witch was downright creepy if you asked him- which annoyingly no one did. It disturbed Alistair that Emery was growing comfortable in her presence and at times even friendly.

The coin in his pocket clinked as he made his way to the blacksmith, his earnings from the sale of his stolen mount. He'd been ripped off frankly but had let it slide as he didn't want anyone looking too closely at him or the merchandise. The interior of the blacksmith's workshop was hot and stuffy as anything but he thought he might as well do something constructive with the time he had.

Alistair was greeted with a strange scene upon entering the the workshop. A young, dark-haired man was arguing with a grizzled old codger in a smith's apron- presumable the blacksmith.

"Oh c'mon" said the young stranger contritely, " just- just give me one of the old ones you have lying around. You won't even miss it"

" Not a chance- and I won't sell you one neither" said the old smith. " I knew your Da for a long time. He was just a simple farmer, no way he'd approve of one of his sons getting grand ideas"

"What's grand about wanting to join the guard? If only I had something to practice with- they wont take me as I am"

"Now listen here, boy. I don't know what's gotten into your head- your brother seems perfectly contented with his lot" The young man's face twisted at these words,

" Trust me" he said darkly, " you don't know my brother, or my father for that matter, as well as you think you do". The blacksmith sighed in exasperation,

" Bitching about your betters will get you nowhere, Carver"

Carver's features distorted into anger and indignation, he readied a reply-

Alistair coughed, loudly. The pair turned around to notice him finally, tension dissipating.

"Uh, pardon the interruption," He began, " But I was hoping you might be able to do something about this" he wrestled his sword out of its scabbard and lay it on a nearby work-table. The Wilds had been unkind to his poor weapon. Somehow damp had gotten into the the scabbard and then into the steel- whether it was the magic of the Wilds or something else, rust which usually took months or years to accumulate had done so in a manner of weeks. It had never been a fancy sword, or a particularly good one, to begin with- but it was all he had.

" Do I look like a miracle worker, boy?" said the smith after he glanced at the weapon.

" Ummm, no?" said Alistair hesitantly, " I just need it to be serviceable by tomorrow morning"

The blacksmith began to laugh.

" Not going to happen"

" You can't do something?" Alistair whinged slightly.

" Under all that, boy, the steel going to be more pitted and pocked than the Imperial highway" said the blacksmith with a tired sigh.

" Whatever," said Alistair, defeated " I just need it by morning"

" Not making any promises," the man growled, " Now get! the both of you- should've closed up ages ago anyhow"

It was only then that Alistair realized the young man from earlier- whose name was Carver, apparently, was staring at him with a mingling of fascination and curiosity. He hastily made for the exit.

" Wait!" shouted Carver once they were outside the smith. Alistair briefly considered pretending not to hear him but unfortunately hesitated a second too long.

" You there" said Carver grabbing his shoulder, " I've never seen you around town before"

" Mmmh hmmm" nodded Alistair before trying to walk away. Carver seemed not to notice, or just simply ignored, Alistair's attempts at escape.

" Its just that, you look as if you've seen some action"

" Mmmmh hmmm" said Alistair but Carver was not dissuaded.

" I've never met anyone whose been in a real battle- well, only soldiers but they're never interested in talking to me"

"Mmmmh hmmm"

"Well, I was thinking...maybe you'd like to have dinner with my family" Carver blurted out suddenly and Alistair was abruptly and distinctly aware that the last time he had eaten had been the night before and that in addition he'd spent the last week or so subsisting charred rodents. Carver was suddenly embarrassed " Its just that few travelers like you, pass through here and I thought maybe you could offer some ad-"

" I'm sold " said Alistair, " lead the way". Carver was taken by surprise by his sudden assent but soon got back his bearings and began to lead Alistair to the Hawke's farmhouse. Alistair, for the first time in a while, thought he'd been extremely fortunate- a free meal and also possibly a free bed for the night (depending on if he played his cards right, but then again these farmer-types were always the model of hospitality). So all in all, meeting Carver had been incredibly fortuitous. Emery would surely be impressed that he'd manged to save money that might have spent at the inn. All he had to do was deal with Carver's family for a night. Shouldn't be too difficult, he thought.


	8. Chapter 8

**"What lies behind us and what lies before us are tiny matters compared to what lies within us."**  
- Ralph Waldo Emerson

* * *

Emery shuffled along in the Chantry robe, it felt like forever since she'd been required to wear anything so closely resembling a dress. Were it up to her, she decided, she would never wear a dress again. When she'd donned the robes after her bath, Emery had tried in vain to locate a mirror. It seemed Chantry initiates did not have use for them- which, when she thought about it, made sense- them being the devout, meditative type she doubted whether vanity was encouraged. The Chantry was a welcome change from the outside world. Its wooden build and furnishings exuded warmth and pleasant smells and shafts of light streamed through the windows, the imperfections in the glass making dancing patterns on the walls. She'd never known such a peaceful place before.

Growing up she'd been well schooled on everything to do with Andraste but she'd never much interrogated her belief in the Maker. Oh, she'd observed all the religious traditions and ceremonies expected, but she had always acquiesced to such things grudgingly. Unsurprisingly she found that lying to an initiate, impersonating a Chantry sister and using it to hide from the law all in one day was forcing her to consider the existence of the Maker and the extent of said Maker's mercy. Her presence in the in Chantry with whispers of prayers and chants spilling from every corner and felt like an some kind of blasphemy.

Her internal debate and lack of faith was not the least reason why she felt hilariously out of place walking through the halls of the Chantry. Despite knowing it was not so, it felt as if she had the the word 'heretic' was scrawled across her forehead in pulsating red ink and she would be accosted at any second and thrown to the mercy of Loghain's thugs. But, either everyone was in on the Leliana's plan or total strangers frequently visited the Chantry wearing initiate's robes.

After getting lost at least twice Emery found Leliana in the kitchens and was handed a modest meal.

" Thank you," she said and, forgetting her manners, began to eat ravenously right away. Leliana did not seem to mind at all.

" I hope you can be comfortable here tonight" the red-head said, " And do not worry about your friend. I think I will send someone to tell him you are safe".

Emery stifled a sigh at not having thought of this already and quickly asked if she could send a note with the messenger. Almost being caught by Loghain's men, and now not thinking to inform Alistair of her condition were just two of the recent mis-steps she seemed to have made. Examples of her ineptitude appeared to be steadily piling up and she wondered when she would be crushed under the weight of them.

" Of course" chirped Leliana cheerfully as she quickly produced the necessary materials from a drawer nearby, " I am sure he must be so worried" she simpered before staring at her knowingly for a long moment, eyes taking on a slightly dreamy cast. Emery thought the woman was having some sort episode before it occurred to her that Leliana might have assumed that she and Alistair were together- as in _together, together_. Obviously the poor sister was deprived of excitement, and clearly being prone to romantic fantasies, had jumped to conclusions about the nature of her relationship with the man. She allowed herself a mental chuckle at the hilarious notion of she and the Warden-Templar being...involved (she found she couldn't quite bring herself to place the word 'lovers' in any context involving her and Alistair without risking laughing out loud).

"Er, yes" she said, trying very hard to keep her features sincere, " very worried. _Very, very,_ worried"

" Do not hold back" cooed Leliana a touch dramatically, " write whatever you wish, I promise the contents will be between you and your friend", she finished off putting a knowing emphasis on those last two words and Emery struggled to keep her chortle from breaking the surface but thankfully her will won out.

It wasn't that Alistair was repulsive. She grudgingly admitted to herself that he could objectively be called handsome. In fact certain woman would swoon over him and he was definitely the the type her friends would have called "dreamy". Perhaps it was that the only boy she'd suffered an infatuation over had been dark and dangerous, or at least she'd thought as much at the time. Alistair on the other hand was about as 'dark and dangerous" as vanilla pudding. This was of course leaving out the fact that he clearly had issues with nobles- which, given the average noble, she admitted to herself was not unfounded.

Emery decided to let the subject rest and allowed herself to be taken in by Leliana's pleasant prattle about life in the Chantry. The woman continued to feed her from a seemingly bottomless supply of freshly baked bread slathered with rich butter. Emery thought it might be the best thing she'd eaten in her life and found that her appetite was endless. However, eventually her politeness won out and she assured Leliana that her hunger was sated. It may have been her imagination but she could swear that the sister looked momentarily relieved, causing Emery to realize with a shock that she'd entirely lost track of how much she'd eaten. In short, too much.

Embarrassed by her gluttony she turned her attention to finishing Alistair's note. She'd kept it brief and remembered to remind Alistair to keep Morrigan out of town if he happened to run into her. There were far too many Templars about and she had no idea why. Templars at Castle Highever had been rare and did not linger, she wondered what had brought so many of them to Lothering.

Thinking of Highever brought on a familiar wave of homesickness but she found that for the first time it was not accompanied by the same crushing sadness and regret. So, like investing a healing wound, she conjured up thoughts of her family and invited a black, aching weight to settle in her chest. It seemed that grief still clung to her. Emery realized how long it was since she had thought of them and what she had lost. It struck her that she'd been avoiding trails of thinking that led to her remembering her dead household. Abruptely she was ashamed. She'd been ripped from Highever so suddenly that maybe something of herself had been left behind too.

" Where will you go after all this?" asked Leliana as she cleared the kitchen, as if she'd been reading Emery's thoughts.

" North" answered Emery truthfully, both in reference to her home as well as their destination of Kinloch Hold. Leliana seemed thoughtful for a moment but made no reply.

" You know the expression 'calm before the storm'" she said eventually and Emery nodded, " I wonder if this is it. Fereldan seems so divided right now, even news from the north has been sparse at best". A sick feeling bloomed in Emery's stomach and suddenly her meal sat in her like lead. A thought had been growing and taking shape in her mind since Leliana had revealed that Cailan's murder had been pinned on her family. The news of her parents death should have been all over the kingdom by now- the fact that it wasn't suggested that someone was actively trying to cover it up.

Now Loghain had a scapegoat for Cailan's murder that conveniently could not speak out or defend themselves. The timing of it was too, for lack of a better word, perfect..

"Do you believe the Couslands really did conspire to kill the King?" Emery asked Leliana and the sister shrugged.

" Who can say? Everything I hear is mostly gossip but Teyrn Loghain is going after them for it"

Emery was simultaneously exhausted at the thought of what lay before her and restless at the thought that Fergus was still out there, uninformed, unprepared and woefully undefended.

She allowed herself to be led be Leliana to a chamber that by the looks of it was reserved for silent prayer and meditation and determined that, for at least that night, she would play the part of devout sister.

* * *

Alistair stood before the threshold of the Hawke family home and under the sharp scrutiny of Carver's brother.

" Carver, " he said stroking his stubble thoughtfully "when mother said she hoped you'd bring someone home to meet the family I'm almost certain she meant a girl- and not a hobo" .He looked at Alistair pointedly who could not even formulate a reply before Carver red-face and huffing insisted,

"He's an adventurer not a hobo!". Alistair dimly considered how ridiculous it was for anyone to be called an adventurer but was more occupied with stifling the urge to ask if he really did look like a hobo. It was not exactly implausible given that he'd most recently been spending his time slogging through mud and muck in the Wilds.

" All right then, what's an adventurer doing on our doorstep?" asked Carver's brother mockingly.

" I said he was welcome to have dinner with us" said Carver petulance dripping from every syllable. He glared at his brother, daring him to deny the hospitality of their home and hearth.

In the end the man shrugged tiredly and Carver turned to Alistair,

"This is my brother, Garrett" he said, pronouncing the name as if it tasted unpleasant. Garrett offered his hand to Alistair," Call me Hawke" he announced when Alistair shook it. It was a moment before Alistair realized he was expected to introduce himself and by that time the length of the handshake was bordering on awkward,

" I'm Al- ix" he said, stumbling as his mind grasped for a suitable alias , " My name is Alix" he said more surely.

"Okay" said Hawke slowly, breaking off the handshake and raising and eyebrow in a look that told Alistair he thought him slightly deranged.

" I guess you can come in and make yourself comfortable. In the meantime I have to have word with my little brother"

Alistair watched the two men disappear into the adjoining room and took stock of his surroundings. The house was typically what you'd find in a small town like Lothering save for tasteful touches here and there like velvet cushions on the seats and a large tapestry on the far wall of birds in flight. It spoke of someone who was accustomed to a different kind of lifestyle. He took a seat at a battered oak table that might once have been fine but was blackened in one corner from what looked like a spout of flame.

Alistair quickly forgot about evaluating up the furniture when he noticed that the table was laid with tit-bits of food and bread. From the look of things dinner had already concluded but Alistair couldn't care less. Compared to what he'd been faring on of late this was a feast- there was bread, wine and best of all cheese.

He sat down quickly and began piling food on the nearest plate when voices in the room next-door caught his attention.

" Maker, You had to pick tonight of all nights, Carver!" said Hawke. Carver hissed a reply which Alistair couldn't make out but caused Hawke's voice to raise in volume.

" You've been into town. Are you seriously that blind or are you just completely ignorant". Alistair, unfortunately, could make out next Carver's reply.

" Believe it or not Garrett, after growing up in this family its kind of impossible _not_ to notice Templars!"

Alistair felt intensely uncomfortable. There was only one reason for someone to avoid Templars. He stared down at his plate of food, appetite slightly diminished.

" Those two are at it again" said voice from behind him and he turned his head to see a young women entering the room. He could immediately tell she was closely related to the brothers.

" I'm Bethany" she said and sat down opposite him, " You'll have to forgive my brothers they are forever at each other's throats" she laughed tightly and watched him nervously. Alistair realized she was trying to figure out whether he'd heard the 'Templar' comment. He decided to play dumb,

" Well I hope they're not arguing about me" he said. Bethany relaxed slightly but Alistair could tell she was still tense,

" I doubt it" she offered before pointing to his untouched plate, " Please help yourself. You've come at a bad time, I'm afraid. Usually things are more cheerful around here- even with my brothers' endless bickering" she paused uncomfortably.

Alistair began to eat, more out of politeness at first, but found his appetite returned after a few bites and was soon clearing the food from his plate"

It wasn't long before the brothers rejoined them with an older woman at their heels. Her presence seemed to keep a lid on their arguing and she introduced herself as Leandra, the mother of the Hawke brood. Alistair detected a whisper of an accent from her but couldn't place it. She fetched more food from the kitchen and fussed over him delightfully. Alistair wondered how children as belligerent as Carver and boisterous as Hawke could really belong to her.

The conversation at the table was tense but trivial. Only Carver and Alistair ate but the rest of the family politely nibbled at some food despite having eaten prior. Eventually Alistair pushed his plate away and thanked them for the meal.

" Well its late enough that you'll have to stay the night" said Leandra kindly before her eldest son cut in,

" There's a shed out back that's dry and out of the wind. Carver can go fetch blankets for you" said Hawke Decidedly, as if closing the subject. Leandra rolled her eyes dramatically.

" Ignore my son, he seems to have forgotten his manners. We can make up a bed for you in Carver's room"

Alistair was about to object and say that the shed was fine when a three loud knocks sounded at the door.

" Open up" yelled a gruff male voice. The family went very still and passed meaningful looks to one another before Hawke shouldered his way past Leandra and Carver to open the door. He removed the latch and swung it open to reveal an imposing Templar. He was large and hulking in his armor, grey haired showed at his temples and he clutched his helmet under one arm.

" Its late, ser" Hawke said irritably and Alistair, " Do you have a reason for calling at this hour?"

" We have reason to believe that apostates are being sheltered in this house" said the Templar evenly.

" You've made a mistake. My family have lived here all our lives there are no apostates. You have the wrong house"

"Move aside, boy" said the Templar, stepping closer and invading Hawke's personal space. Hawke to his credit, did not flinch.

" I said you've got the wrong house. Now leave, you're frightening my mother and sister"

The Templar's hand went to the hilt of his sword and the tension in the small dwelling sky-rocketed.

" Move aside" said the Templar, Hawke only glared back at him, eyes flinty but stance completely at ease.

" Leave us be" Hawke said. The Templar's grip tightened and the a light _clink _was heard as he readied his sword part of the way out its scabbard. Everyone in the house was still as stone until-

" Its me!" shouted a voice and Bethany rushed up to the door, flinging it open the rest of the way and revealing herself and the rest of the family to the Templar.

" I'm the apostate, please," she said, " I won't resist, just don't hurt my family"

"Quiet Bethany" Hawke said tightly trying to obscure the Templar's line of sight by stepping in front of her

" Move aside- she's confessed!"

" No, I won't let you take her" said Leandra, voice cracking as she marched up to the doorway. Hawke wore an uncharacteristically bewildered expression for a moment before his features hardened into something cold and determined.

" Get back, Beth" he said, " we knew this day might come"

" Don't even think of fighting! The place is surrounded-"

" Get back!" shouted Hawke and Alistair reflexively took a stumbling step back just in time to avoid the wave of heat. The Templar had suddenly been engulfed in flames and screamed horrifically in the doorway. Without blinking Hawke shoved the wailing, flaming man out with his boot and shut the door, locked it and jammed a chair against the handle. He turned to everyone. There was a moment of absolute silence before he spoke,

" Let's go". His words roused the rest of the family to action as all of a sudden the dining table was flung aside, food and plates clattering to the floor. Leandra and Bethany left the room in a mad scurry whilst Carver used his foot to to sweep aside the hessian rug revealing an old trapdoor with rusted hinges. Hawke went down on his haunches and wrenched it open with considerable effort. Bethany, barely a moment gone re-emerged holding two staffs with Leandra behind her. She flung one to Hawke who caught it neatly and adjusted her grip on the other. Alistair realized that they were going through the steps of a plan that they had discussed and rehearsed their whole lives.

He felt as if he was being swept to sea by a large wave and as Leandra disappeared down the trapdoor wondered how he'd gotten into this mess. She was quickly followed by Carver and then Bethany. He began to think back to how his day had started but instead found himself being shoved down the dark hole. He landed at the bottom with a jarring impact that made his knees scream in protest. Quickly, though he moved aside as Hawke came tumbling down after him.

The man raised his staff and a jet of fire shot up through the opening that was now above them. Distantly Alistair could hear the wails of pain of whoever was now caught in the burning house. Once more Hawke shoved him forward and he found that he was not in a hole but a tunnel. He felt along the the pitch-black passage aware that there was an apostate ahead of him and apostate behind.

* * *

The hour was late when a host of unsavory-looking men marched into the Chantry.

Emery and Leliana had been in the library quietly poring over books on legends of Andraste and those she had come into contact with during her life. There were also legends about the area they were in, one in particular piqued Emery's interest and nagged at her brain. It told of a The Witch of the Wilds, or Flemeth. Emery knew the name. Flemeth was a character who played a large part in the history of Highever, and the history of her family in particular. Something told her that Flemeth was connected to Morrigan, or that perhaps she was even Morrigan's long-lost ancestor. She resolved to ask the swamp witch about it as soon as they re-united.

However these thoughts were quickly slashed by the insistent panic that engulfed the quiet of the Chantry. The thuggish brutes stormed into the great hall; their expressions told they were out for blood.

" Bring out everyone and line them up!" shouted a mean-looking man among them with a scarred face and a mess of a nose that looked as if it'd been broken at least a dozen times. A timid looking initiate quavered before the group.

" This is a house of the Maker. There can be no violence here" he squeaked unconvincingly.

" There'll be plenty violence in a moment if everyone don't show themselves. You've ten seconds until I send my men to drag them out no matter what they's doing".

It wasn't long before all the initiates and staff of the Chantry emerged, some looking bleary-eyed and bewildered having come from their beds.

" Don't say a word and try to look frightened" Leliana whispered to Emery redundantly as the warden was already tense with fear.

The occupants of the Lothering Chantry were shepherded into the center of the hall, most of them looking down at the floor with varying degrees of either confusion or fear.

" What is the meaning of this?" said an authoritative voice as the Revered mother entered the main hall.

" We're looking for someone" sneered the leader man from before, " looked everywhere in town, 'cept here"

" On whose orders do desecrate our Chantry?"

" That'd be Teyrn Loghain, heard of him I take it" the thug leered at the old women, " There's a dangerous fugitive about. One of them that done murder on the King" He finished off dramatically and was rewarded with gasps and excited titters from the initiates. He waved his hand in a gesture toward the group and everyone around Emery fanned out into a rough line.

" A ridiculous claim" asserted the Revered Mother, stomping toward the thug, " all of us hear are peaceful folk and servants of the Maker"

" We'll see about that. My men spotted something interesting in town today. A girl that did fit the description of a wanted villain and conspirer. Was some high and fancy noble once too"

At his words all the men amongst the group reflexively took a step back and all the woman cowered smaller as the thug began to pace up and down the line analyzing each of them.

" Stop this now!" said the Revered Mother, raising her voice and halting the steps of the man. " I doubt your search requires you to harass these people! Loghain might rule Gwaren but he has no authority over the Chantry- or those under its protection. Do we look as if we're sheltering a high-born"

Her voice seemed to carry throughout the hall and the rest of the thugs looked nervous for a second but their leader just leered maniacally back at the old woman.

" Very well he said. Don't look like she's here but it'll only be a matter of time before we find her also. We done found the other one, a right little dandy he was. My boys took care of him- his mabari too"

Emery willed herself to be very still and concentrate on her breathing. He was referring to Fergus and Haelia, it could only be. Her chest went very tight and she knew a moment of absolute terror as his eyes roved over the group of women, watching for a reaction to his words. They rested on her for a moment and she wanted to scream or run, but didn't.

He sniffed and hocked spit and mucous onto the carpet, and then grunted as if he were displeased by something.

" Get out!" hissed the Revered Mother threateningly, " You're presence is blasphemy. _Get Out_!"

The man laughed but retreated back into the fold of the other thugs,

" Let's go boys" he said and the men exited the Chantry.

Dread, not relief, clawed at Emer's chest once the large doors thundered shut. She played his words over and over in her mind. Had it been a ploy to smoke her out?... Or was Fergus really dead?

The man knew about Haelia, her brother's mabari. Fergus never went anywhere without her- it wasn't exactly a widely known fact but neither had he or anyone they knew attempt to conceal his close relationship to the beast.

Before she could agonize any further she once again found herself being shepherded by Leliana to an empty room. The woman rummaged in a closet before revealing a package wrapped in cloth.

" I was hiding these for you until tomorrow but you'll need it now" said Leliana, slightly frantic. In the package was Emery's gear she'd taken off before her bath earlier that day. The leather had been cleaned and oiled and barely looked as if were the same set that'd been dragged up and down through the sludge of the Wilds. Emery began to strip immediately.

" I'm so sorry" She heard herself saying as she pulled the robes over her head, " I've put you and your Chantry in danger I should never have agreed to come here"

" No" said Leliana, " I'm afraid we must leave for other reasons"

" We?" said Emery as she fastened the buckles as she donned the leather armor, a task so familiar to her now she had no doubt she could do it blind.

" Yes your companion is in trouble. He has become caught between apostates and the Templars that are hunting them"

" How do know this?" asked Emery, her panic rising a notch.

" The time for deception is over" said Leliana simply, " I know who you are"

Emery took a step back and glanced toward the door. It seemed whenever things looked like they couldn't get worse they inevitably did,

"I am not interested in turning you in" said Leliana quickly, " If I was you would have left with those men " she added and Emery paused.

" Why are you helping me?" she asked, echoing her question form earlier that day,

" I hear many stories- the one about the your family trying to steal the throne for example. But I hear others too, ones that I think you will be interested in and say that Teyrn Loghain is not as innocent as he makes out"

"What is it? What do you know" said Emery, grasping at the opportunity for answer.

" There is no time now. We must help your friend, Templars have been circling their targets for almost two days now and I have just heard that they made their move- your companion is with the apostates!"

Emery strapped on her weapons, following Leliana as they fled the Chantry and made for the Hawke farm.


	9. Chapter 9

**The line it is drawn,  
The curse it is cast.  
The slow one now will later be fast,.  
As the present now will later be past  
The order is rapidly fadin' .  
And the first one now will later be last  
For the times, they are a-changin'**

**- **Bob Dylan, _The Times They are A-Changin'_

* * *

First Morrigan and now these two, thought Alistair. The Templar order had always given the impression that they had lid on the apostate problem- clearly though, they did not.

Alistair continued to shuffle through the narrow, pitch-black tunnel under the Hawke farm. The smell of damp earth was overpowering and he could feel dirt lodging under his nails as he felt along the crude walls. It was incredibly claustrophobic, not only because the tunnel narrowed at various points and he found himself having to wedge his way through sideways, rather it was the apostates that boxed him in from either side.

Eventually, the path came to a stop suddenly enough for everyone to collide with each other. After a few mumbled apologies a shaft of light streamed out just ahead of him and Alistair caught sight of Leandra, deceptively spry for a woman of her age, climb out to the surface. The rest of the family followed and Alistair wrenched himself out when the time came.

Fresh air and a starry sky greeted him and he took a second or so to catch his breath. They seemed to have come out in an area of dense brush on the edge of a forest. Everything around him was an inky blue-black save for a speck of angry orange not too far in the distance- the Hawke's burning farm house.

Abruptly Alistair was grabbed by the collar of his shirt and wrenched forward until something sharp was poking the centre most point of his chest. In the darkness he made out the crudely sharpened tip of a staff and followed the hand gripping it up to Hawke's angry face. As he'd been regaining his bearings after the tunnel, Hawke had surfaced himself.

" It would be easy for me to kill you" he said. Alistair, realizing he'd left his sword to be repaired and his shield with their supplies in the forest, decided that any attempt at bravado would fall flat.

" Probably" he heard himself say instead.

"Wait, brother" Bethany stepped forward, uncertain.

" What's to say he won't run off and report us the first chance he gets?" said Hawke, he looked grim and determined. A fine dusting of black earth from the tunnel had settled into the lines of his face, aging him. Alistair dimly wondered where the man's father was before speaking.

" Wait, just let me go" he said calmly, " I couldn't go to the authorities anyway I'm a- " he hesitated, thinking, then continued gravely, " I'm a Grey Warden- they'd kill me on sight"

The announcement was met with silent horror. The Hawke's cast shocked looks among each other.

Alistair would look back on the moment and wonder whether Hawke would have killed him had they not suddenly been interrupted.

Out of nowhere the air grew dense and heavy then dissipated. He felt a curdling sensation in his stomach as if he'd suddenly stumbled or missed a step on a staircase and then it was over.

In front of him Hawke had taken a step back and was hunched over, seemingly out of breath with a sheen of sweat on his brow. Bethany was in a similar state but kneeling.

Out of the brush a dozen Templars appeared, swords drawn; it was hopeless to fight. Alistair recognized the technique- whilst he'd only ever achieved such results with an incredible amount of focus, he knew that the Templars had just drained the two apostates of there magical reserved; he doubted whether Hawke could conjure a lick of flame in his current state.

" No sudden movement" growled on of the Templars, " Down on your knees- all of you! Relinquish and weapon and raise your hands". He and his company had donned their helmets obscuring their faces and individual features. With their identical armor and trappings each Templar was indistinguishable from the last. The effect was unnerving and the Hawke family as well as Alistair were soon surrendering. He found himself kneeling, weaponless and helpless- waiting for the Templars to bind his wrists.

Alistair wondered how long it would be before his identity as a Grey Warden was revealed and he sent to Denerim to face Loghain. Somehow the the thought of looking the man in the eye- the man who was responsible for the deaths of Duncan and the other Grey Wardens- filled him with a cold and grim determination instead of dread. Loghain would pay.

The voice that jolted him out of his dark thoughts was orlesian and female.

" Wait stop! Stop!"

Footsteps came crashing into into earshot. Alistair looked down straight at the ground, wondering who the lilting voice belonged to.

" Let these people go- They've hurt no one"

" They are fugitives of the Templar Order and the Chantry. All apostate mages must be brought into the fold- as you well know", spoke one of the Templars. A new voice entered the conversation- one that Alistair recognized. To his credit he made no reaction, tensely watching the dirt and waiting for a chance to move.

"You cannot take them" Emery said, slightly out of breath.

" This is the will of the Divine and the law of the country" the Templar began in a cold, measured tone, " If you interfere you will be judged in league with these fugitives and punished accordingly". After these words a heavy moment of silenced settled over the group.

There was a sssshk- the sound of blades leaving their scabbard and Alistair looked up finally. The unknown woman was dressed as a Chantry sister and held twin blades, staring down the group of Templars.

" So be it" She said- but before she could lunge into battle Emery cried out suddenly.

" Morrigan! We need you now!"

Out of nowhere freezing air and waiter whooshed into existence. Alistair leaped to his feet and looked around him; the Templars had been encased in a thick layer of crystalline ice, unmoving.

Morrigan, in her usual fashion, appeared out of nowhere walking into view; her gnarled staff was at the ready.

The Hawke family got to their feet. Garrett, retrieved his staff as he rose. He slammed the butt of it into the ground and a rumble sounded. Suddenly rock and earth crawled over the feet of the frozen Templars, inching up to their waists and their chest, then solidifying.

" They won't stay like that for long" he said between pants, still not fully recovered from the Templar's technique.

" We should kill them" said Morrigan blankly,

"- No. We use this time to get away" Emery said quickly. They all passed silent looks of assent, it seemed as if only Morrigan had the stomach for murder. Without another word they made off into the night.

The unlikely arrangement of the Hawke family, a chantry sister, fugitive Grey Wardens and a swamp witch raced through the night. They all followed behind Morrigan who had the best idea of where they seemed to be going; she had lit the tip of her staff with a faint green glow. They used Morrigan's light as a beacon, only occasionally treading on each other's toes and tripping over bushes in the blackness.

* * *

Dawn peeked over the horizon and the morning was freezing. Emery didn't know how far they'd run in the night- it was all a dark blur. The Hawkes were clearly having trouble keeping the pace and were in serious need of resting- especially Leandra and Bethany. In the weak light they congregated by a large boulder and spoke in hushed tones, looking over their shoulders at everyone else. Emery was surprised at how restless she was, she expected to be exhausted after such exertion but instead her body thrummed with energy. She walked over to her skinny horse who was innocently munching on some wiry grass that didn't look at all appetizing. She'd been worried that they wouldn't be able to retrieve her and the supplies they'd left in the clearing but quite astonishingly they'd found the beast, saddled and packed, in the middle of the wilderness. The only explanation she could give for it was 'Morrigan'.

Emery tried to pet the mare but it snorted at her and shook its mane irritably before walking off. She heard a cold laugh behind her,

" You have a way with animals" Morrigan, said mockingly and Emery shrugged.

" She's been like that since I got her- probably annoyed that I haven't even given her a name yet. I've just been calling her 'Horse'"

" I wouldn't credit the beast too much. Its lived among men for too long to have much spirit"

" And here I thought you two were growing fond of each other- what with you convincing her to appear out of nowhere with all of our things". Morrigan shrugged. Silence settled for a moment before the witch spoke,

" How did you know?" she asked

" Know what?"

" How did you know I was following you as a crow last night?". Morrigan added and Emery smiled to herself.

" I've been trying to figure out where you disappear to all the time. I had a few suspicions but in the end I figured that you don't really disappear at all; hidden but not invisible. You like to be an observer- or a spy I should say.". Morrigan laughed, genuinely. It wasn't a warm sound but Emery was still taken aback.

" I'm not sure if I should be complimented or insulted" the witch said.

" I'm not sure either" Emery replied, " So, what are you? A crow or a women?"

" Neither- tis' the problem with taking the shape of animals. You are never truly one of them yet you yourself become changed in the process"

" Are you saying you're a little less human than you're meant to be?"

" That is correct- although, so are you now"

The witch walked off before Emery could think of a reply. She wanted to ask her what she knew about the Grey Wardens but didn't know how she would react. She was just as likely to offer tricks or evasions than a truthful answer. Still, Emery was beginning to respect Morrigan in a strange kind of way.

Nearby, the Hawke's family meeting seemed to have concluded and they turned their attention to others.

" We've talked amongst ourselves and we think its best for us to to go our own way now."

" I agree" said Emery, coming across colder than she intended, " We're headed to The Circle- I've been told its not a place you want to visit".

The eldest son, Garrett nodded - he seemed to be the spokesperson for the group.

" Is it true what they say about the wardens and the King?" he asked suddenly and his mother and sister gasped, before muttering at him to shut up.

" No" said, Emery. Leliana who'd been talking with Alistair turned her attention to the discussion.

" There are many things at work here. I'm sorry that you and you're family have been brought into this". Garrett shrugged dismissively,

" If we hadn't run into you I'm sure our own troubles we'd have been a victim of our own troubles"

" Where will you go?" asked Alistair.

" East, we think"

" I'll go with you part of the way- if you'll have me" announced Leliana to everyone's surprise.

" Of course" said Leandra, before any of her family could object. Leliana flashed an agreeable smile.

* * *

Alistair and Emery stood side by side as they prepared to say goodbye to the Hawkes and Leliana. The young Warden bit her lip thoughtfully watching as a few feet away the Hawke's divide up the supplies she had donated to them. She hadn't given them much, but then again she and her party didn't have much to begin with. Despite this fact she felt she owed them - especially Leliana who had saved all of their lives in Lothering (Emery's probably several times). She hadn't admitted it aloud but, presumptuous though it was, she'd been hoping the sister would agree to travel with them- at least for a spell. The women clearly had skills and experience they would find useful.

Leliana left the Hawkes as they argued over rationing the supplies and made for Emery and Alistair,

" I'm sorry I'm leaving so soon" She began, " There is something to the east I should see too"

" In the Chantry you said you knew something about Loghain" Emery asked, eyebrows narrowing. She wouldn't let Leliana go without some answers at least.

" Some say he stares at the throne a bit too longingly and now that the King is conveniently dead all that stand in Loghain's way is Cailan's widow- who happens to be Loghain's daughter-"

" - All she needs to do is abdicate and the throne would be his. Cailan has no heirs! " Emery said, finishing Leliana's thought, " I doubt many could raise much of a fuss considering who Loghain is"

" What do you mean?" asked Alistair becoming lost, and Leliana clarified for him,

" Loghain is the Teyrn of Gwaren and hero - he led the rebellion and freed Ferelden. There are tales and songs about him all throughout Thedas. People respect him- fear him. Even so, he needn't even get Anora to abdicate; he is as likely to rule through her as he is convince her to give up the throne"

" But he's now the most powerful noble in Ferelden- who could challenge his claim? Maybe if my father were still here..." said Emery trailing off and Alistair and Leliana grew still, taking a moment to contemplate the ground., " Other than than..." said Emery quietly, after a moment, " Arl Eamon might be the only one able to raise complaint with any legitimacy- Cailan was his nephew by blood.". As she mentioned the Arl of Redcliffe, Airard's last words came back to her- she realized he knew Loghain was after the throne and that Eamon might be the only person who could challenge him.

" Should we really be worrying about this right now" asked Alistair, feeling out of his depth. " I thought we were looking for Levreth"

" He's a warden- he wasn't at Ostagar" said Emery, answering Leliana's confused look. Ignoring Alistair she went on, " What I want to know is why now? Loghain's been content to whisper in Cailan's ear all these years. Something must have changed- maybe they no longer saw eye to eye?"

" Its the elves" Leliana offered, " They are threatening to rebel. There has been fighting on the border of the Brecilian forest for some time now"

" I don't know" said Emery doubtfully, " They always say they're going to rebel but it never seems to amount to much. How is this time any different?"

" Someone has united the clans." whispered Leliana, she said coming in closer toward the wardens, " I have even heard rumors that the alienages have been included - that all elves are part of it". The pieces clicked into place and Emery and Alistair turned to one-another with a nervous look. Could all elves have meant Airard too? He may have been a Warden but he was Dalish once.

" What is it- what do you know?" asked Leliana, intrigued by the look on their faces,

" It's nothing-" began Alistair but he was interrupted by Garrett's approach.

" Please" he said to Leliana, " I don't think we can wait any longer- we're anxious to get going". To this Leliana nodded and began to turn,

" Wait!" said Emery, grasping her shoulder,

" That is all I know" the sister said," - and he is right. We should not waste the head start we have on the Templars . Do not worry, I expect we shall meet again. Whatever happens, the Wardens are involved in this whether you two wish it or not. Go and find this Levreth but after it may fall to you help set things right".

With a smile and a nod Leliana walked off to join the Hawkes.

Emery and Alistair quietly got their things together while Morrigan loitered. Their heads were abuzz with the information Leliana had imparted; neither were willing though, to bring up Airard and his possible involvement with the Elves's rebellion. Emery was still trying to process the impact of a full-scale Elvish revolt- it would be devastating. They still didn't have all the pieces together; it all seemed such a mess. On top of it all she still worried for her brother, at odds with the apparent announcement from Loghain's thugs that they'd killed him. Whether it was blatant denial or justifiable hope she didn't know- but the young Warden felt as if Fergus was still out there. Emery took stock of their meager supplies before they set off for Kinloch Hold; she hoped better news lay ahead.

* * *

**A new chapter! (YAY!) Apologies for taking so long... I feel like the plot is finally starting to come together in this chapter and I'm planning way more intrigue (not to mention cameos) later on :)**

**Please Review and not to worry- Leliana and the Hawke brood will be returning!**

Onward to the Circle!


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